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,,A Manual of Russian Conversation".
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— IV —
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Cxp.
ITpeflHCJiOBie « . III.
Elementary Senleuces . = . 1
Connected Phrases.
General Remarks bu the World 6
Productions of Various Countries .......>..... 7
Of the Difference and Distance of a Mile in Different Countries. 8
Varieties of the Human Species —
Useful Knowledge 9
Languages of the World 10
Anecdotes, ^arnitive and other Pieces.
1. Laconic Answers ............ . . 11
2. Friend Charles, Put on thy Hat —
3. The Duke of Marlborough ............ —
4. Hogs, the Only Gentlemen , 12
5. I Will no More Verses Make . . . . - —
6. The Origin of the Term Sandwich ■. . . . ~»
7. The Origin of the Term Grog 13
8. The First Smoker —
9. A Resolute Boy ... . . 14
10. Scarce Articles —
11. The Note of Interrogation , 15
12. Doctor Goldsmith . —
13. The Quaker 16
V\. Effect of Music . . . . , , —
15. Honesty the Best Policy . 17
16. An Enemy's Courtesy —
17. Humanity 18
18. The Bagpiper Revived 19
19. Newton's Command of His Temper —
20. Abstraction —
21. Oliver Cromwell . , . —
22. Canute's Reproof . . 21
23. Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale 22
24. Shut the Door . .' —
25. Dean Swiff . 23
26. Swift Teaching. Good Manners —
— VI —
Cxp.
27. Jonathan Swift . . . 24'
28. Sir Walter Scott ... . 25
29. AValter Scott at School : . . . . 26
30. Sheridan . 27
31. The Value of Time —
32. Peter the Great 28
33. Newton and the Shepherd Boy 29
34. Almanac Weatlier Wisdom 30
35. Singular Cases of Inability to Distinguish Colours ... 31
36. Alick ........ ■ • ' . 32
37. Professor Porson . . . . —
38. The Travelling Library , 33
39. The National Debt of England . . . 34
40. Doing Jnstice to the Consonants 35
41. Vulgar Pronunciation . —
42. Lying Punished . ..... 36
43. Mr. Dock! 37
44. Private Prayer . —
45. The Praying Little Girl —
46. A Better Rule than «Expediency» ......... 38
47. The Missionary Money-box 39
48. Dr. Franklin on Prayer ............ —
49. Washington ^0
50. An Illustration of a Special Providence and of the Power
of Prayer .,..,.. 41
51. The Bible a Shield for Soul and Body ....... 42
52. Honesty the Best Policy 43
53. Remarkable Escape from Danger 44
54. Newfoundland Dogs 45
55. A Priceless Dog 46
56. Canine Sagacity . . . . • . , . 48
57. More Faithful than Favoured . . , 49
58. Bill, the Fire-escape Dog 50
5 9. The Strictness of Discipline R.ewarded 52
60. Thomson and Quin . . 53
61. The Whistle 54
62 A Trait of Lord Byron's Generosity, Humanity, and Tender-
heartedness ... 55
63. The Chimney-sweepers' Feast, or the Lost Child. Found 58
64. A Nobleman and his Noble Servant 60
65. Miss Burney 62
66. The Generous Cateran 64
67. Singular Instance of Generosity 65
68. Bradford the Innkeeper 68
_ VII - .
Cxp.
69. Fingal outwitting the Scotch Giant 71
70. The Adventure of My Aunt 72
71. James V. Travelling in Disguise 75
72. James Chrichton 77
73. Sir Sidney Smith's Escape 80
74. A Dangerous Journey in Labrador . 82
75. Over the Rapids . ...... 85
76. A Visit to a Famous Island 91
77. The Sedar, and Leopard Hunt 96
78. A Princess Royal . . . '. 100
79. Anecdote of Rev. John Wesley 108
80. Nelson ' ..... 112
8 1 . The Loss of the Royal George 115
82. Anecdotes of Discoveries * 123
Historical Extracts.
1. Ancient England and the Romans 129
2. The Scots and Picts , 137
3. The Saxons 139
4. King Alfred the Great 143
5. The Story of Macbeth . " , 146
6. The Battle of Hastings 154
7. Bold Robin Hood 157
8. Death and Character of Richard I. 163
9. Chivalry . . . ., 165
10. Henry II. Conquest of Ireland 166
11. Magna Charta . . 169
12. Edward l.'s Conquest of Wales and Scotland .... 170
13. Robert Bruce 172
14. Battle of Crecy 176
15. The War of Roses 183
16. Henry "^W 187
17. Henry VIII 188
18. King Edward VI , . 191
19. The Invincible Armada 192
20. The Gunpowder Plot . '. 194
21. The Petition of Right ... 199
22. The Puritans . 200
23. Habeas Corpus Act (1679) , .203
24. Earl of Nithsdale 204
25. Stratagem Signally Defeated . , . . 206
26. The Country Gentlemen, Clergy, and Yeomanry . . 208
27. Difficulty of Travelling 220
28. England in 1685, and England in 1857 . . . . • 223
— VIII — .
Sketches from the British Empire. cxp.
I. General Physical Features of England 239
II. Civil and Ecclesiastical State 2^3
III. National Character— Language, Literature, Arts, and Sciences 245
IV. The City of London 247
V. The Streets of London 252
VI. The River Thames 251-
VII. Life and Manners of the Inhabitants of Scotland . . . 256
VIII. Colonies and Dependencies of Great Britain .... 258
IX. Commerce and Manufactures of Great Britain .... 265
POETRY.
1. The Busy Bee 207
2. The Lazy Fly —
3. The Field Daisy , 268
4. The Little Coward. . .- . '. . . . . . . . —
5. The Evening Bells. ... . . —
6. The Disobedient Little Fish 269
7. The Idle Boy —
8. The Monkey . 270
9. Questions and Answers 271
10. A Morning Hymn . —
Jl. An Evening Hymn 272
12. The Great Shepherd —
13. The Glow Worm 273
14. God Provideth for the Morrow ......... —
15. Paraphrase on Psalm XXIll . . . . ... . . 2.74
16. We are Seven 275
17. The Bundle of Sticks. 276
18. The Hare and the Tortoise . . • 279
19. Destruction of Sennacherib . 2'^0
20. Pity for Poor Africans ... ^ ....... 281
21. My Heart's in the Highlands 283
22. Rule Britannia —
23. The Inflicape Rock 284
24. Sir Lancelot du Lake. . 286
25. King Leir and His Three Daughters. 289
26. King John and the Abbot of Canterbury 294
27. Chevy.Chase " 298
28. The Diverting History of John Gilpin 301
29. The Cataract of Lodore 305
CjIOBapB T&'h nepBBIM'B 10 CTpaHHUjaM-B . . . . 313
AjI^aBHTHBIH CJIOBapL KO BCGH ICHHr-fe . . . . 325
¥^.
Elementary Sentences.
1.
There is a knock at the door. — Somebody knocks at the door. —
Go and see who it is. — Go and open the door. — It is Mr. B, — Good
morning to you. — I am very glad to see you.— I am very happy to see
you.— I have not seen you this age. — You are quite a stranger. — Pray
be seated. — Do, pray, sit down.— Please to sit down. — Give a chair
to Mr. B. —Fetch a seat. — Will you stay and take dinner with us? — I
cannot stay. — I only came in to ask how you did. — I must go. — You
are in a great hurry. — I have a good many things to do. — Surely you
can stay a little longer. — I have many places to call. at. — I will
stay longer another time. — I thank you for your visit. — I hope I shall
see you soon again.
II.
Have you breakfasted? — Not yet. — You come Justin time. — You will
breakfast with us . — Breakfast is ready . — Come to breakfast. — Do you drink
tea or coffee? — Would you prefer chocolate?— I prefer coffee? — What shall
I offer you? — Here are rolls and toast. — Which do you like best? —
I will take a roll. — I prefer some toast. — How do you like the coffee?
— I hope your coffee is as you like it. — Is the coffee strong enough? —
It is rather too strong. — It is excellent. — It is sweet enough. — It
is not clear. ^ If it is not, I beg you will say so.
'"> .
What time do we dine to-day? — We are to dine at four o'clock. —
Dinner will not be ready before five o'clock. — Is any one coming to
dinner, besides our own family? — Do you expect company? — I expect
1
Mr. T. — If the weather is fine, Mr. N. has promised to take dinner
with us. — Have you given orders for dinner? — Whatliave you ordered
for dinner? — What have we got for dinner? — Have you sent for any
fish? — I could not get any fish. — Tliere was not any fish in the market.
— I fear we sliall have a very plain dinner. — We must manage as
well as we can.
lY.
What shall I help you to? — Would you like to taste the soup? —
Will you take some soup? — 1 thank you, I will trouble you for a little
beef. — It looks very nice. — What part do you like best? — Will you
have it well done or underdone? — Rather well done, if you please. —
1 prefer it rather underdone, if you please. — I like it rather well done.
Have I helped you as you like?— It is excellent. — Will you let me send
you a piece of this pie? — I thank you, I perfer a piece of that pudding. —
Try them both. — You had better take some of both. — Will you taste
a slice of this mutton, what shall I send you? ~ Do you choose any of
the fat? — Alittlo of the lean, if you please? — This piece, I hope, will
suit ^our taste.
V.
You have no gravy. — You have no sauce on your plate. — I have
plenty, I thank you. — I have as much as I wish for, I thank you. —
How do you like the boiled veal? — It is delightful. — It is remarkably
fine meat. — What will you take with your meat? — Shall I help you to
some vegetables? — Here is some spinage and some brocoli, and there
are new potatoes. — Will you have peas, or cauliflower? — The aspar-
agus is extremely tender and very sweet. — Do you eat salad? — Here
are both carrots and turnips. — Have you any bread? — We have both
brown bread and white. — The brown bread is home-made.
VI.
Shall I help you to some of this? — Allow me to help you to a piece
of this fish. — Shall I send you a slice of this leg of mutton? — It is
very full of gravy. — You have not tasted any of this tart. — This ham
is delicious. — Shall I help you to some of it? — I will thank you for a
very small piece, just to taste it. — Give me but a little bit. — You have
no appetite. — You eat nothing. — I beg your pardon, I have eaten very
_ 3 —
heartily. — A small piece of this partridge cannot hurt you. — Will
you try the plum sauce? — Shall I give you a wing or a leg? ~ You have
helped me rather too plentifully. — Will you please to cut it in two? —
The half will be sufficient for me.
YII.
Have you carried in the tea things?— Every thing is on the table —
Does the water boil? — Tea is quite ready. — They are waiting for you.
— I am coming, — I will follow you. — You have not put a basin on the
table. — We have not cups enough. — We want two Qups more. — Bring
another spoon, and a saucer.— You have not brought in the sugar-tongs.
— Do you take sugar? ~ Do you like cream? — I will thank you for a
little more milk. — The tea is too strong. — Will you fill up my cup with
water? — Shall I give you black tea or green? — I have both here. —
What will you take to eat? — Here are cakes and muffins. — Do you
prefer bread and batter? — I will take some. — Get some more bread and
butter. — Will you take a small piece of cake? — Do pray. taste it. —
Not any more, I thank you. ~ Had you rather not? — Much rather not,
I assure you. tv ^>--^ ' i^ py^, itvf^- "^^.^tw .
VIII.
Will you be so kind as to pull the bell. — Pray ring the bell. - We
want some more water. — Make more toast. — Bring it as soon as pos-
sible. — Take the plate along with you. — Is your tea sweet enough?
— Have I put sugar enough in your tea? — Do you find your tea sweet
enough? — It is excellent, I do not like it so very sweet. — Your tea is very
fine. — This is most excellent tea. — Where do you get it? — A friend
has procured me a small chest. — It is the only way to get it good and
cheap. — You will take another cup? — I will pour you out only half a
cup. — I had much rather not, I thank you. — I never take more than
three cups. — Call the servant to take everything away.
IX.
Will you stay and sup with us? — Pray take your bread and cheese
with us. — I am much obliged to you, but I am afraid it will be too
late. — We shall sup directly. — We have only a little cold meat to
offer you, and a few oysters. — Are you fond of oysters? — I like them
very much. — Here is some ham and cold beef; which shall I offer you
first? — I will try a few oysters. — 1 hope they are quite fresh.— They
_ 4 —
are very good- — Pray take a few more, — No, I thank you, I will
take a slice of cold ham. — Will you taste the apple pie? — It looks
very good. — No, I have supped very heartily. — I have done ex-
tremely well.
X. •
Will you take a glass of wine with me? — I thank you, with much
pleasure. — Which do you prefer, claret or portwine or a glass of sherry?
— A glass of white wine. — What do you drink with your dinner? —
We have table beer, and porter, and Scotch ale. — I will taste a glass
of porter. — The porter is extremely fine. — It is quite ripe. — How
long has it been in the bottle? — I think I never drank better.
XI.
Have you written your exercise? — Where is your translation? — I
am very sorry, but I have quite forgotten to make it. — I was prevented
from making it, I had a very bad toothache. — Let me ::!ee your copy. —
It is very badly written. — It is scarcely legible. — You must write it
better, or I shall expect you to make it over again. — Have you learnt your
vocabulary. — Repeat your dialogues. — Let me hear the irregular
verbs. — Have you learnt the rules? — Repeat your lesson. — You hardly
know a single word, you must learn it again after school.— I will have
it said perfectly, without missing a word.
XII.
Where shall I sit? — Take your seat on that form. — Sit a little
higher up. — Do not make such a noise. — Spell that word again. —
Do not shake the table, I cannot write unless you sit still, — Lend me
your knife, — I have lost my pen. — Can you lend me one? — I have
none to spare. — I want to use mine myself. — I can't find my copy-
book. — Where did you leave it? — Upon the desk, under my other
books. — I put it into my desk. — I laid it on the shelf, just by my
seat. -- Go and fetch it. — Have you got your slate? — Have you got
it? — Look for it. —I have found it. — Where was it? — It was under
the form.
XIII,
Do you know what o'clock it is?— I don't know exacfly. — I can't tell
you to a quarter of an hour. —Look at your watch, — It is not wound up. —
I forgot to wind it up. — It does not go. — It has stopped, — My watch does
- 5 —
not go well. — It loses a quarter of an hour every day . —Mine gains as much .
— The main spring is broken. — It must be sent to the watchmaker.— 'Are
you up already? — I have been up this hour. — You got up very early. —
I generally rise early. — Have you slept well? — 1 never woke all night.
— - I could not sleep a wink. — I never closed my eyes the whole night.
— Oh ! what a fine morning. — What do you think of taking a short
walk? — Shall we have time before breakfast? — They won't breakfast
this hour. — We have full an hour before us. — The walk will give us
an appetite.
XIV.
It begins to grow very late. — It is almost time to go to bed. —
Mr. B. is not yet come home. — I hear a knock. — Very likely he is
there already. — Go and see. — Ha, there he is! — I hope I have not
kept you up. — Oh, not at all. — It is only ten o'clock. — Have you
had a pleasant walk? — Very much so. — It is a charming evening.—
Are you not tired? — Not much. — Pray sit on the sofa, and rest your-
self a little, — I fear we shall have a very hot summer- — We have had
no summer this year. — We have had a fire even in the month of July.
— There will be a great deal of hay. — They have begun the harvest.
— The crop will be plentiful. — There is wheat cut down already. —
The corn will all be housed next week. — No wonder it is so warm, we
are in the dog days.
XV.
The summer is over. — We must not expect many more fine days.
— The leaves begin to fall. — The mornings are cold. — We have
already begun fires. — A fire begins to be comfortable. — The days are
very much shortened. — The evenings are long, we cannot see at five
o'clock. — It is hardly day light at four in the afternoon. — It is soon
dark. — The winter draws near, we shall have the shortest day in three
weeks. — Christmas will soon be here. — I wish it were here already.
— The days begin to lengthen. — The fire is very low. — Here is a
poor fire. — Put some more turf and wood into the stove. — You have
not kept up a good fire. — You have let the fire go out. — It must be
lighted again. — What are you looking for? — I am looking for the
tongs. — NoAV put in two or three pieces of wood. — It will soon
draw up.
6 —
XVI,
Here is another new book. — What is it about? — A little of every
thing, — Is it entertaining? — Yes, very, for young people; it is full of
anecdotes, serious and sad, lively and laughable. —Very well, I am sure
I shall like it; shall we read a page or two?— If you please, I have some
time to spare before 1 go out. — Are you going to walk this evening? —
Yes, if the weather continues fine, but I think it will rain, it is dark and
cloudy. — Oh! I think not, the wind is too high. — Which way is the
wind? — East, this morning it was west. — Thishasbeen a coldmonth.
•
I have taken a great deal of exercise, and I am now quite strong and well.
Good morning! I was just wishing to meet with you, which way are
you going? will you go home with me? — I have something very beau-
tiful to show you. — Come! it is not late, I have not seen you for a
long time, where have you been? I thought you had left.town, you never
go out. — Why don't you oftener visit us? — We walk or ride into the
country every day. — We sail or row up the river. — We went out shooting
yesterday- — Next week we are going to the races, on Wednesday or
on Thursday we shall see the balloon ascend.
Connected Phrases.
General Remarks on the World.
The coldest country in the world is Greenland, and the hottest, the
Burmese empire. The largest empire in Europe and the world, is Russia,
and the smallest kingdom in Europe is Saxony. The tallest people in the
world are the Patagonians, and the shortest people, the Laplanders. The
most polished people in the world are in Europe, the most savage in
Africa, the most numerous in Asia; and the thinnest population in the
world is in America. The most numerous people in the world are the
Chinese. The freest country in Europe is England, and the most enslaved
is Turkey. The oldest empire in the world is China, and the newest is
the Brazils. The most mountainous country in Europe is Norway, and the
flattest is Russia. The highest mountain in Europe is Mount Blanc, in
Savoy, in France; and the highest mountain in the world is MontEverest,
. — 7 —
one of the Himalaya mountains, in Asia. — The largest river in the world
is the Maranon, or Amazon, in South America. Great Britain has the largest
fleet of ships in Europe. France, Austria, and Russia have the largest ar-
mies. England is the most trading country in ihe world, and the United
States next to it. South America is remarkable for its gold and silver mines.
Arabia is famed for fine horses. Egypt and Palestine were civilized, when
Europe was all barbarous; now Europe is civilized, and they are in a rude
state. Greece was once the mightiest of nations, and it is now the weakest.
The Italians and Germans are the most musical people in the world, and
the Chinese the least so. He who speaks the French language can travel
all over Europe, and he who speaks the English can trade all over the
world.
Productious of Various Countries.
Anchovies come from the Mediterranean. The best brandy is distilled
in France. Butter is carried to England from Ireland, Holland, and Hol-
stein. Carpets of the best sort are manufactured in Persia and Turkey.
Cheese of one kind, called Dutch cheese, comes from Holland. Cocoa
grows in the East Indies, and in Polynesia; coffee in Arabia, the East and
West Indies, Persia, and America. Cork comes from France, Spain, and
Italy. Cotton is brought from the United States, the East and West Indies,
where it grows on a tree; it is also brought from Egypt, Cyprus, Smyrna, etc.
Deal wood comes from Sweden, Norway, and America. Diamonds are found
in Brazil and India. Figs grow in Turkey, chiefly Smyrna. Codfish is
brought from Newfoundland. Gin, called Hollands, is distilled in Holland-
Gloves of the best sort are made in France. Gold for the most part comes
from Siberia, California, Australia, and South America. Ivory, made of
elephants' teeth, is sent from Africa, but the best is from the island of
Ceylon. The best lace is made in Belgium and France. Muslin of the best
sort is manufactured in Bengal. Oil of the finest kind for eating is imported
from Italy. Oranges grow in Italy, Portugal, Spain, the Cape Verd islands,
Madeira, and the Azores. Pearls are found by diving near Ceylon. Plums
and raisins are dried, and sent from Turkey and Spain. Rice is cultivated
in China and the East Indies. Rum is made from sugar in Jamaica. Silk
worms are bred in Italy, China, the Caucasus, and Persia. Silver is found
in Mexico and South America. Spices, such as cinnamon, cloves, pepper etc.
— 8 — .
grow in Ceylon, and the Moluccas. Sponge is found in the Mediterranean
Sea, near the Archipelago islands. Tallow comes from Russia. Timber
chiefly comes from Sweden and the United States. Cigars of the best kind
come from Cuba and Manilla, andtabaccofrom Virginia, and Turkey. Toys
are mostly made in Germany. Whalebone is made out of the bone of whales,
a huge fish caught off Greenland,' Whisky comes from Scotland and Ireland.
Wines are made in Portugal, Madeira, Spain, France, Sicily, Cape of Good
Hope etc. Wool of the finest kind comes from Saxony and Spain.
Of the Difference and Distance of a Mile in
Different Countries.
Is the length of a mile the same in every country? No, very different;
for the English mile is much less than the Indian; the Indian, than the
Spanish; the Spanish, than the German. What is an English mile? An
English statute mile consists of 5280 feet, or 1760 yards. What nations
agree nearly in this measure? The Turkish, Italian and old Roman mile
is nearly one English. What is a Russian verst? Very little more than three
quarters of an English mile. What is an Indian mile? Three English miles.
What is a Spanish, Polish, and Dutch mile? About three miles and a half
English. What is a Scotch and Irish mile? About a mile and a half English.
What is an Arabian mile? A mile and a quarter English. What is a German
mile? Little more than four English miles. What is a Swedish, Danish,
and Hungarian mile? From five to six English miles.
Varieties of the Human Species.
There are five grand varieties of the human race; but they impercept-
ibly approach, and are lost in each other. First: the white and brownish
nations of Europe, western Asia, and the north coast of Africa ; who,
according to our notions of beauty, are the handsomest and best formed
of the human race. Next: the yellow or olive coloured Chinese, Monguls,
Calmucs, and other eastern nations of Asia, with whom may be reckoned
the most northerly American Indian tribes, having flat foreheads, little
eyes, and wide mouths. Thirdly: the copper coloured American Indians,
dispersed over the entire continent; with broad faces, bristly hair, and
stout masculine limbs. Fourthly: the jet black negroes and other Africans
of various shades of black, having woolly hair, thick lips, flat noses,
— 9 -
prominent chins, and downy skins. Fifthly: the darli brown Australians,
on the continent, and in the islands of the Pacific and Indian oceans, with
large features, strong hair, broad nostrils and great mouths.
But all men are the offspring of one common parent; and among the
varieties, the swarthy negro and the delicate European are brethren, de-
scended from the same ancestor.
Useful lioowledge.
One is often surprised, when talking with little boys, to find them so
ignorant of many things, which they ought to have known as well as
their own names. I was questioning one, at least eight years old, the
other day, who knew neither the number of days, weeks, or months
there are in the year. He could not tell whether the sun rose in the east
or the west, and was equally ignorant whether his pocket was made of
hemp, flax, or wool. There are things certainly more important for him
to know than these, but he should make himself better acquainted with
things of this nature.
Every boy ought to know, that he has five senses, seeing, hearing,
smelling, feeling, and tasting; — that the year has four seasons, spring,
summer, autumn, and winter; — that the earth turns round, and travels
round the sun;— that the world is composed of land and water, and di-
vided into six parts, Europe, Asia, Africa, America, Australia, Oceania
or Polynesia; — that there are four cardinal points, east, west, north, and
south;— that gold, silver and other metals, and coal are dug out of the
earth; diamonds are found on the land, and pearls are found in the sea.
That boy must be ignorant indeed, who does not know, that bread is
made of the flower of wheat; butter from cream, and cheese from milk;
that when flour is mingled with yeast, it makes leavened, or light bread,
and that when no yeast is used, the bread is heavy or unleavened. The
passover cakes of the Jews, the biscuits eaten by sailors, and the barley
bread of Scotland are all unleavened. A boy ought, at an early age, to be
acquainted with such things as are in common use; but I have frequently
found it necessary to explain to young people, that sugar is made from
the juice of the sugar cane in the Indies; that tea is the dried leaves of
a shrub which grows in China, about the size of a currant bush; that
coifee is the berry of a bush growing in Arabia and the West Indies; and
2
- 10 -
that chocolate is manufactured from cacao and vanilla. Many boys know
very well that ale and beer are made with malt and hops, cider from
apples, and perry from pears; who do not know, that wine is the juice
of the grape; that brandy is distilled from wine, rum from sugar, and gin
from juniper berries. And they have been equally ignorant that oranges,
citrons, and lemons grow in Spain and the western islands; and spices in
in the East Indies, and other parts; that pepper and cloves are fruits of
shrubs; nutmegs, the kernels of a fruit like a peach; cinnamon, the bark
of a tree; and ginger and rhubarb, the roots of plants. A greatdeal of this
kind of knowledge may be obtained in a little time by young people, if
they keep their eyes and ears open, and now and then ask a question of
those who are wiser than themselves. I know a father who is very
anxious that his children should obtain useful knowledge, and I heard
him explain to them the other day, that salt is sea water, or salt water
dried; glue, the sinews, feet, and skins of animals, boiled down; cork, the
bark of a tree; flax, the fibres of the stalk of a plant resembling a nettle;
and tow, the refuse of hemp. He told them also, that paper is made prin-
cipally from linen rags, torn to pieces, and formed into a pulp; and lastly,
that glass is made of sand, flint, and alkaline salt.
Languages of the World.
According to the enunleration of Professor Adelung, there are in the
world three thousand and sixty-four different languages ; of which five
hundred and eighty-seven are spoken in Europe, nine hundred and thirty-
seven in Asia, two hundred and seventy-six in Africa, and one thousand
two hundred and sixty- four in America. The Professor probably includes
in this enumeration many provincial (ig^|j|tions of the same general lan-
guages.
— 11 —
Anecdotes, Narrative and other Pieces.
1. Laconic Answers.
The following conversation is one that happened to take place in the
backwoods of America.
«What is the land?» «Bogs»- — «The atmosphere?» «Fogs.* —
«What do you live on?» uHogsy>. — «What are your draught animals?"
«[)ogsy>. — What do you build your houses of?» <s.Lo^s->->. — Is there
any fish in the ponds?" aFrogs». — «What do you travel by? «Clogs».
— Many honest people there? » «Rogues».
2. Friend Charles, Put on tby Hat.
Mr. Penn, the proprietor of Pennsylvania, and the most considerable
man among the Quakers, once went to Court to pay his respects to King
Charles II. When that merry Monarch observed that the Quaker did not
take off his hat, he took off his own, and stood uncovered before Penn.
«Prithee, friend Charles*, said the Quaker, «put onthyhat». cNo,
friend Penn », said the King, «it is usual for only one man to stand
covered here». "
Questions.
1. Who was Mr. Penn? — 2. Where did he once go? — 3. What did
Charles II observe? — 4. What did he take off?
4. What did the Quaker say? — 6. What was the King's reply?.
3. The Duke of Marlborough.
The Duke of Marlborough admiring the fine figure and warlike air of
a French soldier taken prisoner in the battle of Ilochstett, said to him:
«If the French had but fifty thousand such men as you, we should not
have gained the battle so easily». — «Morbleu, Milord», said the solider,
«we have plenty such men as I, we only want one like you».
do estions.
1. What did the Duke of Marlborough admire? — 2. At what battle had
this solider been taken prisoner? — 3. How was the figure a^d air of the
soldier?— 4. What did the Duke of Marlborough say to him?— 5. What did the
soldier answer?
12
4. Hogs, the Only GentlemeD.
Dr= Franklin, when last in England, used to repeat an observation
which was made by his negro servant, on a tour in Lancashire etc.
«0h! Massa >; , said the negro, « every thing is working in this country:
water works, wind works, fire works, smoke works, dogs work, men
work, oxen work, horses work, asses work — every thing works here
but the hog: it eats, it drinks, it sleeps, it does nothing all the day, but
walks about like a gentleman ».
Questions. -
1. What did Dr. Franklin use to repeat?
2. What did the negro say?
5. 1 Will no More Verses Make.
It was so natural for Dr. Watts, when a child, to speak in rhyme,
that even at the very time he wished to avoid it, he could not.
His father was displeased with this propensity, and threatened to
whip him, if he did not leave off making verses.
One day, when he was about to beat his son for again speaking in
rhyme, the child burst out into tears, fell on his knees, and said:
«Pray, father, do some pity take,
And I will no more verses make«.
Questions.
1. What was natural for Dr. Watts, whea a child? — 2. Was his father
pleased with this propensity? - 3. What did he threaten to do to the boy? --
4. What was he about one day? — 5. What did the child do and say?
6. The Origin of the Term Sandwich.
Not many years ago. Lord Sandwich, Minister of state, spent twenty-
four hours in a gaming-house. He was so occupied by the passion of
gaming, that during the whole time he had only some slices of fried beef
between toas^, which he ate without leaving the gaming-table.
This new kind of viand obtained the name of the Minister, who had
invented it for the purpose of economizing his time.
— 13 —
QoestioDS.
1. Who spent twenty-four hours in a gaming house? — 2. What did he
eat there during the whole time?
3. What name did this new kind of viand obtain?
7. The Origin of the Term Grog.
Until the time of Admiral Vernon the British sailors had their allowance
of brandy or rum served out to them unmixed with water.
This plan was found to be attended with inconveniences on some
occasions. The Admiral, therefore, ordered that in the fleet hecommanded,
the spirit should be mixed with water before it was given to the men.
This innovation, at first, gave great offence to the sailors, and ren-
dered the Commander very unpopular.
The Admiral, at that time, wore a grogram coat, and was nicknamed
«01d Grog». This name was afterwards given to the mixed liquor he
compelled them to take; and it has hence universally obtained the name
of grog.
Questions.
1 . How did the British sailors take their brandy or rum until the time of
Admiral Vernon?
2. How did this plan prove? — 3. What order did the Admiral accordingly
give? — 4. What was the consequence?
5. What did the Admiral wear, at that time, and how was he nicknamed? —
6. To what was this name afterwards given?
8. The First Smoker.
Tobacco was first brought into repute in England by Sir Walter
Raleigh. By the caution he took in smoking it privately, he did not intend
it should be copied. But sitting one day, in deep meditation, with a pipe
in his mouth, he inadvertently called to his man to bring him a tankard
of smaUbeer. The fellow, coming into the room, threw aU the liquor into
his master's face, and running downstairs, bawled out: «Fire! Help! Sir
Walter has studied tiU his head is on fire, and the smoke bursts out at
his mouth and nose!»
Cluestions.
1. By whom was tobacco first brought into repute in England? ~ 2. Why
did he smoke it privately? — 3. What was he doing one day? — 4. What
did he tell his man to do? — 5. What was the consequence?
— 14 -
9. A Resolute Boy.
A boy, who had sold a cow at the fair of Hereford in the year 1766,
was waylaid by a highwayman on horseback, who, at a convenient place,
demanded the money.
On this the boy took to his heels, and ran away. But being overtaken
by the highwayman, who dismounted, the boy pulled the money out of
his pocket, and strowed it about on the ground.
While the robber was picking it up, the boy jumped upon the horse,
and rode home. When he was searching the saddle-bags, there were
found twelve pounds in cash, and two loaded pistols.
Questions-
1. Who had sold a cow at the fair of Hereford? — 2, By whom was he
waylaid, and what did the highwayman demand?
3. What did the boy do on this? — 4 When the boy was overtaken by
the highwayman, what did he do with his money?
5. What followed?
10. Scarce Articles.
George 1, King of England, being once on a journey to Hanover, stop-
ped at a little village in Holland, and being hungry asked for two or three
eggs, which he ate while the postillions Avere changing horses. When they
were going away, the servant told his Majesty that the inn-keeper had
charged two hundred florins; on which the King sent for him, and said:
«How is it, Sir, that you charge me two hundred florins for three eggs?
are they so scarce here?» «No», replied the host, «eggs are abundant
enough, but Kings are excessively rare here, and we must make the most
of them, when fortune does us the favour of throwing them into our way » . —
The King smiled, bade the postillions drive on, telling the landlord, «quMl
donnait ses oeufs pour avoir des boeufs».
Glaestions.
1. On what journey was George 1? — 2. AVIiere did he stop?— 3. What
did the king ask for? — 4. How many eggs did he eat? — 5. What did the
servant tell his Majesty? — 6. Whom did the King send for, and what did he
say to him? — 7. Were eggs very scarce in that country? — 8. What was
there very rare? — 9. What did the King say to the landlord?
- 15 -
11. The Note of Interrogatiou.
When Pope was one evening at Burton's coffee house, and with Swift
poring over a Greek manuscript of Aristophanes, they found one sentence
which they could not comprehend. As they tallied pretty loud, a young
officer, who stood by the fire, heard their conference, and begged leave
to look at the passage. «0h», said Pope, sarcastically, «by all means!
Pray, let the young gentleman look at it». Upon which the officer took
up the book, and considering a while, said, there wanted only a note
of interrogation, to make the whole intelligible. «And, pray Sir» , said
Pope, piqued, perhaps, at being outdone by a red coat, «what is a note
of interrogation? » «A note of interrogation » , rephed the youth, with a
look of the utmost contempt, «is a little crooked thing that asks questi-
ons*. (It must be remembered that Pope was slightly hump -backed).
Questions.
1. Where was Pope one evening. — 2. With whom was he there? —
3. What were they doing? — 4. What did they find in that manuscript? ^
5. How did they talk? — 6. What did a young officer do, when he heard their
conference? — 7. What did Pope answer, and in what manner? — 8. What did
the officer do, after he had taken up the book'^ — 9. What would make the whole
intelligible? — 10. By whom was Pope outdone, and how did he feel on that
account? — 11. What did he say. — 12. What was it the youth replied?
12. Doctor Goldsmith.
A poor woman, understanding that Dr. Goldsmith was a physician,
and hearing of his great humanity, solicited him, by letter, to send her
something for her husband, who had lost his appetite, and was reduced
to a most melancholy state. The good-natured poet waited on her instantly,
and, after some discourse with his patient, found him sinking with sick-
ness and poverty. The doctor told the honest pair that they should hear
from him in an hour, when he would send him some pills which, he
believed, would prove efficacious. He immediately went home, and put
ten guineas into a pill-box, with the following label: «These must be
used as necessities require: be patient and of good heart ». He sent his
servant with this prescription to the comfortless mourner, who found it
contained a remedy superior to any thing Galen, or his disciples, could
ever administer.
- 16 -
Cluestions.
1. "Who believed Dr. Goldsmith to be a physician? — 2. Was he indeed a
physician?— 3. What did this woman solicit from him by letter?- 4. What had
her husband lost, and to what was he reduced?— 5. What did Dr. Goldsmith im-
mediately do? — 6. How did he find his patient? -— What did Dr. Goldsmith
tell the patient? — 8. What did he put into a pill-box, and how was this box
labelled? — 9. How was this remedy found?
13. The Quaker.
A Qaaker, driving in a one-horse chaise, happened to meet with a
young fop, who was also in a one-horse chaise. There was not room
enough for them to pass each- other, unless one of them would back his
carriage., which they both refused. «I will not make way for you», said
the fop, «no, Iwillnot». «I think lamoiderthan thou art», said theQua-
ker, «and therefore have a right to expect thee to make way for me».
«I will noti), resumed the first. He then pulled out a news-paper, and
began to read, as he sat still in his chaise. The Quaker observing him,
pulled a pipe and some tobacco from his pocket, and with a convenience
which he carried about him, struck a light, lit his pipe, and sat and
puffed away very comfortably. «Friend», said he, «when thou hast read
that paper, I should be glad, if thou wouldst lend it me».
Cluestions.
1. Whom did a Quaker happen to meet?— 2. How was this Quaker driving?
— 3. Was there room enough for them to pass each other? — 4. What was
necessary? — 5. Why was the youth not willing to make way? — 6. Which
was the elder of them? — 7. What did the Quaker expect? — 8. What did the
young blood pull out of his pocket? ~ 9. What did the Quaker pull out of his
pocket? — 10. With what did he strike a light? -- 11. How did he smoke his
pipe? — 12. What did the Quaker at last say to the young man?
14. ElTect of Music.
A Scotch bag-piper, traversing the mountains of Ulster, was one eve-
ning encountered by a starved Irish wolf. In his distress the poor man
could think of nothing better, than to open his wallet, and try the effect
of his hospitality; he did so, and the savage swallowed all that was
thrown to him, with so improving a voracity, as if his appetite was but
- 17 -
just returning to him. Tlie whole stock of provisions was, of course, soon
spent, and now his only recourse was to the virtues ofhis bag-pipe, which
Jhe monster no sooner heard , than he took to the mountains with great
precipitation. The poor piper could not so perfectly enjoy his deliverance,
but that with an angry look at parting he shook his head, saying: «Ay,
are these your tricks? Had I known your humour, you should have had
your music before supper*.
Qaestions.
1. Who was traversing the mountains of Ulster? — 2. By whom was he en-
countered? — 3 . What did the poor man do in his distress? — 4. What did the
savage do? —5. What was soon spent? — 6. To what had the bag-piper recourse
now? — 7. What did the monster do, as soon as he heard the bag-pipe?— 8.
What did the bag-piper say, as he shook his head?
15. Honesty the Best Policy.
A nobleman travelling in Scotland , about six years ago , was asked
for his alms in the High Street in Edinburgh by a little ragged boy. He
said, he had no change; upon which the boy offered to procure it. His
Lordship, in order to get rid of his importunity, gave him a piece of silver,
which the boy conceiving to be changed, ran off for the purpose. On his
return, not finding his benefactor, whom he expected to wait, he watched
for several days in the place where he had received the money. At length,
the nobleman happened again to pass that way; the boy accosted him, and
put the change he had procured into his hand, counting it with great
exactuesss. — His Lordship was so pleased with the boy's honesty, that
he placed him at school, with the assurance of providing for him.
Questions.
1. Where and when did a nobleman travel? — 2. Where was he asked for
his alms, and by whom? — 3. Why did his Lordship give the boy a silver
piece, and what was the consequence? — 4. When the nobleman happened
again to pass that way, what did the boy do? — 5, What was the result of the
boy's honesty?
.-16. All Enemy's Courtesy.
When the crusaders under King Richard of England defeated the Sa-
racens, the Sultan seeing his troops fly, asked what was the number of
3
-IS-
C'
the Christians who were making all this slaughter? He was told, that it
was only King Richard and his men, and that they were all on foot, ^Thens ,
said the Sultan, «God forbid, that such a noble fellow as King Kichard
should march on foots! and sent him a noble charger. The messenger
took it, and said: a Sire, the Sultan sends you this charger, that you may
not' be on foot». The King was as cunning as his enemy, and ordered
one of his squires to mount the horse in order to try him. The squire
obeyed; but the animal proved fiery, and the squire being unable to hold
him in, he set oifyfuU speed, to the Sultan's pavillion. The Sultan expect-
ed, he had got King Richard, and was not a little mortified to discover
his mistake. -
Cluestions.
1. When the Sultan saw his troops fly, what did he ask'^ — 2. What was he
told? — 3. What did the Sultan say and do? — 4. What were the words of the
messenger? — 5. What did the King order one of his squires to do?— 6. What
was the consequence? — 7. What did the Sultan expect, and how did he feel
on discovering his mistake?
[7. Hamanity,
Sir Philip Sidney, at the battle near Zutphen, displayed the most un-
daunted courage. He had two horses killed under him; and, while mounting
a third, was wounded by a musket-shot out of the trenches, which broke
the bone of his thigh. He returned about a mile and a half on horseback
to the camp, and being faintwith the loss of blood, and, probably, parched
with thirst through the heat of the weather, he called for drink. It was
presently brought him; but, as he was putting the vessel to his mouth,
a poor wounded soldier, who happened to be carried by him at that instant,
fixed his eye eagerly upon it. The gallant and generous Sidney took the
bottle from his mcuth just when he was going to drink, and delivered
it to the soldier, saying: «Thy necessity is yet greater than mine»!
Cluestions.
1. What did Sir Philip display at the battle near Zutphen? -— 2. What hap-
pened to him, while mounting a third horse? — 3. What did he call for, and
why? — 4. As he was putting the vessel to his mouth, what occurred? —
5. What did the generous Sidney do and say?
19
'■* '.
18 T!ie Bagpiper Revived.
The following event happened in London during the great plague
which, in 1665, carried off nearly 100,000 of the inhabitants.
A Scotch bagpiper used to get his living by sitting and playing his
bagpipes every day on the steps of St. Andrew's church, in Holborn. In
order to escape the contagion he drank a great deal of gin; and, one day,
having taken more than usual, he became so drunk that he fell'fast asleep
on the steps. It was the custom, daring the prevalence of that terrible
disease, to send carts about every night to collect the dead, and carry
them to a common grave, or deep pit, of which several had been made in
the environs of London.
The men passing with the cart up Holborn-hill, and seeing the piper
extended on the steps, naturally thought it was a dead body, and tossed
him into the cart among the others, without observing that he had his
bagpipes under his arm, and without paying any attention to his dog,
which followed the cart, barking and howling most piteously.
The rumbling of the cart over the stones, and th& cries of the poor
dog, soon awoke the piper from his drunken lethargy, and, not being
able to discover Avhere he was, he began squeezing his bag and playing
a Scotch air, to the great astonishment and terror of the carters who im
mediately fetched lights, and found the Scot sitting erect amid the dead
bodies, playing his pipes. He was soon released, and restored to his faith-
ful dog. The piper became, from this event, so celebrated, that one of the
first sculptors of that epoch made a statue of him and his dog, which is
still to be seen at London^
Questions.
1. How many people died of the plague in London in 1665? — 2. How did
the Scotch bagpiper get his living? — 3. What did he do in order to escape the
plague, and what were the consequences? — 4. What was the custom at that
time in London? — 5., What did the men do with the piper? — 6. What awoke
the piper? — 7. What did he do on awaking? — 8. What became of him after-
wards?
19. Newton's Consmand of his Temper.
Newton had a favorite little dog called «Diamond». One winter's morn-
ing, while attending early service, he inadvertently left his dog shut up
in his room. On returning from chapel, he found that the animal, by upset-
— 20 —
tiog a taper on his desk, had set fire to the papers on which he had written
down his experiments; and thus he saw before him the labors of so many
years reduced to ashes. It is said, that on first perceiving this great loss,
he contented him.^elf by exclaiming: « Oh Diamond! Diamond! thou little
knowest the mischief thou hast done».
Cluestions.
1 . When had Newton inadvertently left his dog shut up in his room? —
2. What did the animal upset on his desk? — 3. What papers had the animal
set fire to? — 4. To what was the labor of many years reduced? — 5. What
did Newton content himself to exclaim?
i^";^^ . 20. Abstraction.
Sir Isaac Newton, finding himself extremely cold^one winter's evening,
drew a chair very close to the grate, in which a fire had recently been
lighted. By degrees the fire having completely kindled, Sir Isaac felt the
heat intolerably intense, and rang his bell with unusual violence. His
servant was not at hand in the moment, but soon made his appearance.
By this time Sir Isaac was almost literally roasted. « Remove the grate,
you lazy rascal »! he exclaimed in a tone of irritation, very uncommon
with this amiable and mild philosopher, « remove the grate before I am
burned to death »! On the servant's remarking that it would be easier for
him to draw back his chair; «upon ray word^^ , said he, smiling, «I never
thought of that» !
Clnestions.
1. How did Sir Isaac find himself one winter's evening, and what did he do?
— 2. WHiat did he feel and do when the fire had completely kindled? — On the
servant's appearing, what did Sir Isaac exclaim, and how? — 4. What remark
did the servant make? — 5. What did Sir Isaac say?
21. Oliver Cromwell.
Oliver Cromwell was born at Huntingdon, and of the younger branch
of a good family. There is a curious story told of a narrow escape he had,
when an infant, from the mischievous tricks of a monkey. He had been
taken by his father and mother to his grandfather's, old Sir Henry Crom-
well's at Hinchinbroke; and, while his nurse was out of the way, a great
monkey, which was allowed to run loose about the house, snatched him
. — 21 —
out of the cradle, and ran with him to the roof of the house, where it was
seen dancing about with the child in its arms, to the great terror of the
whole family, particularly, as you may suppose, ofhis father and mother.
It was impossible to attempt to catch the animal; the only thing that could
be done was to place feather-beds and carpets all round the house, for
the child to fall on in case the monkey should let him drop. However,
after some time, the creature returned down into the house by the way
it had got up, and brought the child back in safety.
Questions.
1. Where was Oliver Croravell born? — 2. Of what is there a curious story
told?— 3. To whom had he been taken by his parents? — 4. Who snatched young
Oliver out of the cradle? — 5. What was this monkey allowed to do? — 6. Where
was the nurse?— 7. Whither did the monkey run with the child in its arms? —
8. What was impossible? — 9. What was placed round the house, and why? —
10. Whither did the monkey return, and by what way? — 11. How was the
child brought back?
22. Canute's Reproof.
Canute, the greatest and most powerful monarch of his time, sovereign
of Denmark and Norway as well as of England, could not fail of meeting
with adulation from his courtiers, a tribute which is liberally paid even
to the meanest and weakest princes. Some of his flatterers, breaking out
one day in admiration of his grandeur, exclaimed that every thing was
possible for him. Upon which the monarch ordered his chair to be set on
the seashore while the tide was rising, and, as the waters approached,
he commanded them to retire, and to obey the voice of him who was lord
of the ocean.. — He feigned to sit some time in expectation of their sub-
mission. — But when the sea still advanced towards him, and began to
wash him with its billows, he turned to his courtiers , and remarked to
them, that every creature in the universe was feeble and impotent — and
that power resided with one Being alone , in whose hands were all the
elements of nature; who could say to the ocean, thus far shalt thou go
and no farther ; and who could level with his nod the most towering
piles of human ambition.
Q Q e s t i 0 n s.
•1. What did Canute's flatterers exclaim? — 2. What did the Monarch order
to be done? — 3. When the sea advanced, what did Canute remark to his
courtiers?
__ 22 — . .
23. Dr, JobDsoii aud Mrs. Thrale.
•The first time Johnson was in company with Mrs. Thrale, neither the
elegance of his conversation, nor the depth of his knowledge could prevent
that lady from being shocked at his manners. Among other pieces of in-
decorum, his tea not being sweet enough, he dipped his fingers into the
sugar-basin, and supplied himself with as little ceremony and concern,
as if there had not been a lady at the table. Every well bred cheek was
tinged with confusion; but Mrs. Thrale was so exasperated, that she
ordered the sugar-basin immediately from the table, as if its contents had
been contaminated by the Doctor's fingers The Doctor prudently took no
notice, but peaceably swallowed, as usual, his dozen cups of tea. When
he had done, instead of placing his cup and saucer upon the table, he
threw them both calmly under the grate. The whole tea-table was thrown
into confusion. Mrs. Thrale screamed out: «Why, Doctor, what have you
done? You have spoiled the handsomest set of china I have in the world! »
«I am very sorry for it, madam», answered Dr. Johnson, «but I assure
you I did it out of good breeding; for from your treatment of the sugar-
basin, I supposed you would never touch any thing again that I had once
soiled with my fingers ».
Questions.
1. At what was Mrs. Thrale shocked- — 2. Into what did Dr. Johnson dip
his fingers? — 3. How didMrs. Thrale feel, and what did she order to be done? —
4. How did Dr. Johnson act? — 5. When the Doctor had finished his tea, what
did he do? — 6. AVhat was Mrs. Thrale's exclamation, when Dr. Johnson threw
the cup and saucer unter the grate ? — 7. Wiiat was the Doctor's reply?
24. Shut (lie Door.
Dean Swift, though a good master, was very strict with his ser-
vants. The task of hiring them was always entrusted to his housekeeper;
but the only two positive commands he had for them , he generally de-
livered himself: these were, to shut the door whenever they came into,
or went out of a room. One of his maid- servants one day asked permission
to go to her sister's wedding, at a place about ten jniles distant. Swift
not only consented, but lent her one of his own horses, and ordered his
servant to ride before her. The girl, in the ardour of joy for this favour,
forgot to shut the door after her, when she left the room. In about a quarter
- 23 —
of.an hour after her departure, the Dean sent a servant after her, to order
her immediate return. The poor girl obeyed; and enterning his presence,
begged to know in what she had offen.ded, or what her master wished.
<^:Only shut the door », said the Dean, «and then resume your journey».
ftu e stions.
1. What was Dean Swift? — 2. What two positive commands had he for his
servants? — 8. Where did one of his maidservants ask permission to go? —
4. How did the Dean grant this request? — 5. What did the girl forget to do?
— 6. What was the consequence? — 7. On the girl's entering the Dean's
presence, what did he say?
25. Beau Swiff.
As the late Dean Swii't was ouce upon a journey, attended by a ser-
vant,-they put up at an inn, where they lodged allnight. In the morning,
the Dean called for his boots; the servant immediately took them to him.
When'the Dean saw them, «How is this, Tom», says he, «my boots are
not clean?)) ((No, Sir», replied Tom; «as you are going to ride, I thought
they would soon be dirty again, so I did not clean them». Very well»,
said the Doctor, «go and get the horses ready». In the mean time the
Dean ordered the landlord to let his servant have no breakfast. When the
servant returned, he asked if the horses were ready. «Yes, Sir», was the
answer. ((Go, bring them out> , said the Doctor, (d have not had my break-
fast yet», replied tom. <^0h, no matter for that»,said his master, if you
had, you would soon be hungry again». They mounted, and rode off.
Uuestions
1. Where was the late Dean Swift once, and what did he do?— 2. For what
did he call in the morning? — 3. What did he say to his servant? — 4. What
was Tom's reply? — 5. What did the Doctor say to this, and what did he do
in the mean time? — 6. What did the servant say, when the Doctor bade him
bring out the horses? — 7. What was his master's reply?
26. Swii't Teacliiiig Good Manueis.
A friend of Dean Swift one day sent him a turhot, as a present, by a
servant who had frequently been on similar errands, but had never yet
received the most trifling mark of the Dean's generosity. Having gained
admission, he opened the door of the study, and abruptly putting down
— 24 —
the fish, cried very radely: «Master has sent you a turbot». «Heyda!
young mau», said the Dean, rising from his easy chair, «isthat the way
you deliver your message? Let me teach you better manners; sit down
in my chair, we will change situations, and I will show you how to
•behave in future ». The boy sat down, and the Dean, going to the door,
came up to the table with a respectful pace, and making alow bow, said:
«Sir, my master presents his kind compliments, hopes your Reverence
is well, and begs your acceptance of aturbot». — «Does he», replied the
boy. «Here John, take this honest lad down into the kitchen, and give
him as much as he can eat and drink; then send him up to me, and 1
will give him half a crown » ,
Questions.
1. What present had a friend of Dean Swift sent him one day, and by whom?
— 2. Had this servant •ever received any mark of the Dean's generosity? —
3. What did the servant do and say, when he had gained admission? — 4. What
did the Dean say? ~ 5. Whither did the Dean go, when the boy was fitting
down, and what did he say, when he had made a low bow? — 6. What did the
boy reply?
27. Jonathan Swift.
In one of his letters , Pope gives the following illustration of Dean
Swift's eccentricity:
Dean Swift has an odd, blunt way, that is mistaken by strangers for
ill nature: it is so odd that there is no describing it but by facts. I'll tell
you one that first comes into my head.
One evening, Gay and I went to see him: you know how intimately
we were all acquainted. On our coming in, "Heyday,' gentlemen », says
the doctor, «whars the meaning of this visit? How came you to leave all
the great lords that you are so fond of, to come hither to see a poor dean?»
«Because we would rather see you than any of them». «Ay, any one
that did not know you so well as I do might believe you. But since you
have come I must get some supper for you, I suppose*. «No, doctor, we'
have supped already». «Supped already? That's impossible: why, it is
not eight o'clock yet. That's very strange: but if you had not supped, I
must have got something for you. Let me see; what should I have had?
A couple of lobsters? Ay, that would have done very well — two shillings;
tarts, a shilling ».
- 25 —
«But you will drink a glass of wine with me, though you supped so
much before your usual time, only to spare my pocket ». «No, we had
rather talk with you than drink with you». «But if you had supped with
me, as in all reason you ought to have done, you must then have drunk
with me. A bottle of wine, two shillings. Two and two are four, and
one is five; just two and sixpence a piece. There, Pope, there's half a
crown for you; and there's another for you, Sir; for I won't save any thing
by you, I am determined)). . -
This was said and done with his usual seriousness on such occasions;
and, in spite of every thing we could say to the contrary, he actually
obliged us to take the money.
Ctaestions.
1. What does Pope give in one of his letters? — 2. What had Dean Swift
about him, and how can it only be described?
3. Where did Gay and Pope go one evening? — 4. What did the Doctor say
on their coming in? — 5. What did the two poets answer? — 6. What did the
Dean reply to this? — 7. What did he say when told that they had supped
already?
8. How did he invite his friends to take a glass of wine with him? — 9. On
being told that they had rather talk with him than drink with him, what did
he say?
10. How was all this said and done, and what did he actually oblige thera
to do?
28. Sir Walter Scott.
When Sir Walter Scott was a schoolboy, between ten and eleven years
of age, his mother one morning saw him standing still in the street , and
looking at the sky, in the midst of a tremendous thunderstorm. She^called
to him repeatedly, but he did not seem to hear: at length he returned into
the house, and told his mother that if she would give him a pencil, he
would tell her why he looked at the sky. She acceded to his request, 'and
in a few minutes he laid on her lap the following lines:
((Loud o'er my head what awful thunders roll !
What vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole !
It is thy voice, 0 God, that bids them fly;
Thy voice directs them through the vaulted sky;
Then let the good thy mighty power revere ;
Let hardened ainuera thy just judgments fear.»
— 26 —
Questions.
1. When Walter Scott was between ten and eleven years of age, what did his
mother see him doing? — 2. Did he take notice, when she called him? — 3.
Wh€n he returned into the house, what did hetell his mother? — 4. What lines
did he present to her a few minutes after?
29. Walter Scott at School.
It appears that when this celebrated author was at school, though
very laborious, his intelligence was not brilliant, and his great success
in after-life was owing to his indefai^igable perseverance.
The following anecdote is found in his autobiography published some
years since.
« There was», says Walter Scott, «a boy in my class, who stood al-
ways at the top, and I could not with all my efforts supplant him. Day
came after day, and still he kept his place; till at length 1 observed that,
when a question was asked him , he always fumbled with his fingers at
a particular button on the lower part of his waistcoat while seeking an
answer. I thought, therefore, if 1 could remove the button slily, the sur-
prise at not finding it might derange his ideas at the next interrogation
of the class, and give me a chance of taking him down. The button was
therefore removed without his perceiving it. Great was my anxietylo know
the success of my measure, and it succeeded but too well.
«The hour of interrogation arrived, and the boy was questioned: he
sought, as usual, with his fingers, for the friendly button, but could not
find it. Disconcerted he looked down, the talisman was gone, his ideas
became confused, he could not reply. I seized the opportunity, answered
the question, and took his place, which he never recovered, nor do I
believe he ever suspected the author of the trick.
«I have often met with him since we entered the world, and never
without feeling my conscience reproach me. Frequently have I resolved
to make him some amends by rendering him a service; but an opportu-
nity did not present itself, and 1 fear 1 did not seek one with as much
ardour as I sought to supplant him at school*. W. S,
duestions.
1. To what was Sir Walter indebted for his great success ? — 2. What
could Sir Walter not do with regard to a boy in his class ? — 3 . What did Sir
— 27 —
Walter observe regarding the boy above hlra in tlie class?— 4. What did Walter
Scott do to the boy? — 5. What did the boy seek? — 6. What was the conse-
quence, when the boy did not find the button? — 7. What did Walter Scott do,
when the boy could not answer the question? — 8. What did Sir Walter feel,
and what did he resolve to do?
30. Sheridan.
Sheridan was one day much annoyed by, a fellow member of the House
of Commons, who kept crying out every few minutes: «Hear! hear!»
During the debate he took occasion to describe a political cotemporary
who wished to play the rogue, but had only sense enough to.act the fool.
« Where » , exclaimed he, with great emphasis, uwhere shall we find a
more foolish knave or a more knavish fool than he?» «Hear! hear!» was
shouted by the troublesome member, Sheridan turned round, and, thank-
ing him for the prompt reply, sat down amid a general roar of laughter.
QlaestioDS.
1. By whom was Sheridan one day much annoyed? 2. — 2. Whom did he
describe during the debate? — 3. What did he exclaim? — 4. What was shouted
by the troublesome member? — 5. What followed?
31. The Value of Time.
King Alfred, who ascended the throne of England in 871 (eight hun-
dred and seventy one), and who, lik^e Charlemagne, by his magnanimity
and wise government, acquired the title of the Great, was a prudent econ-
omist of time, well knowing that a moment lost can never be recovered.
Alfred wished to divide the day into equal proportions, in order to nppro-
priate a certain space of time to the accomplishment of the different objects
he had in view.
This was not an easy matter, as clocks were at that time nearly un-
known in Europe, and quite so in England. It is true that in fine weather
the flight of time could be marked, in some degree, by the course of the
sun; but in the night, and when the sun was hidden by clouds, there
were no means of judging.
The. King, after much reflection, and many experiments, ordered a
certain quantity of wax to be made into six candles of equal length and
— 28 —
thickness, which being lighted one after the other , as he had found by
experience^ would last from mid- day to mid- day. On each of these candles,
he marked twelve divisions or inches, so that he knew nearly hovv the
day was going, as the consumption of each candle marked the expiration
of a sixth part, or about four hours, and each division or inch denoted
the lapse of twenty minutes.
By these means Alfred obtained what he desired, an exact admeasure-
ment of time; and the improvements which took place during his reign
show that both the King and his people had learned to appreciate its value.
Ctaestions.
1. When did King Alfred ascend the throne of England? — 2. What title has
he acquired— 3. By what virtues has he aqiiired this title? — 4. Of what was
he a prudent economist, and why? — 5. What did Alfred wish tq divide, and for
what purpose?
6. Why was this not an easy matter? — 7. When can the flight of time be
marked by the course of the sun, and when is it impossible to do so?
8. Wliat did the King, after many experiments, order to be made, and how
long did the candles last? — 9. What did the King mark on each of the candles?
— 10. What mas marked by the consumption of them? — 11. What was denoted
by each division? — 12. What did Alfred obtain by these means? — 13. What
do the improvements during his reign show?
32, Peter the Great.
It was the custom of Peter the Great to visit the different workshops
and manufactories, not only to encourage them, but also to judge what
other useful establishments might be formed in his dominions. Among
the places he visited frequently, were the forges of Mr. Muller at Istia,
ninety versts from Moscow. The Czar once passed a whole month there,
during which time, after giving due attention to the affairs of state, which
he never neglected, he amused himself with seeing and examining every
thing in the most minute manner, and even employed himself in learning
the business of a blacksmith. He succeeded so well, that on one of the
last days of his remaining there, he forged eighteen poods of iron, and
put his own particular mark on each bar. The boyars, and other noblemen
of his suite were employed in blowing the bellows, stirring the fire, car-
rying coals, and performing the other duties of a blacksmith's assistant.
When Peter had finished, he went to the proprietor, praised his ma-
nufactory , and asked him how much he gave his workmen per pood.
— 29 -
«Three copeeks, or an altina», answered Muller. «Very well», replied
the Czar, «I have then earned eighteen altinas». Muller fetched eighteen
ducats, offered them to Peter, and told him, that he could not give a
workman like his Majesty less per pood. Peter refused. «Keep your duc-
ats« , said he, «I have not wrought better than any other man; give me
what you would give to another; 1 want to buy a pair of shoes, of which
I am in great need». At the same time he showed him his shoes, which
had been once mended, and were again full of holes. Peter accepted the
eighteen altinas, and bought himself a pair of new shoes, which he used
to show with much pleasure, saying: ((These I earned with the sweat of
my brow)).
One of the bars of iron forged by Peter the Great , and authenticated
by his mark, is still to be seen at Istia, in the forge of Muller. Another
similar bar is preserved in the- cabinet of curiosities at St. Petersburgh.
UuestiOQS.
1. What custom had Peter the Great? — 2. Why did he visit workshops
and manufactories? — 3. Whose forges did Peter frequently visit? — 4. How long
did the Czar stay at Istia? — 5. With what did he amuse himself during this
time? — 6. What business did he learn? — 7. Did he neglect his affairs of
state? — 8. How many poods of iron did Peter the Great forge in one of the
last days of his remaining at Istia, and what did he put on each bar he had
forged? — 9. What duties were the Boyars obliged to perform?
10. To whom did Peter go, when he had finished, and what did he praise?
— 11. How much did Mr. Muller use to give his workmen per pood? — 12.
How many altinas had the Czar earned? — 43. What did Mr. Muller tell the
Czar? — 14. Did Peter accept the ducats? — 15. What did he say to Mr.
Muller? — How Avere his shoes? — 17. What did Peter buy for his eighteen
altinas? — 18. Why did he always show these shoes with so much pleasure?
19. What is still to be seen at Istia? — 20: Where is another similar bar
preserved?
33, Newton and the Shepherd Boy.
This Hlustrious philosopher was once riding over Salisbury plain, when
a boy keeping sheep called to him: «Sir, you had better make haste on,
or you will get a wet jacket*. Newton, looking around, and observing
neither clouds nor a speck on the horizon, jogged on, taking very little
notice of the rustic's information. He had made but a few miles, when a
storm, suddenly arising, wet him to the skin. Surprised at the circum-
— 30 — ^
stance, and determined, if possible, to ascertain how an ignorant boy had
attained a precision and knowledge in the weather, of which the wisest
philosopher would be proud, he rode back, wet as he was. «My lad»,
said Newton, «ril give thee a guinea, if thou wilt tell me how thou canst
foretell the weather so truly». '^Will ye, Sir? I will, then», said the boy,
scratching his head, and holding out his hand for the guinea. «Now,Sir»
(having received the money, and pointing to the sheep), «when you see
that black ram turn his tail towards the wind, 'tis a sure sign of rain
within an hour». «What!« exclaimed the philosopher, «must I, in order
to foretell the weather , stay here and watch which way that black ram
turns his tail?» «Yes, Sir». Off rode Newton, quite satisfied with his dis-
covery, but not much inclined to avail himself of it, or to recommend it
to others.
Questions.
1. Where was Newton once riding? — 2. What did a boy call to him? —
3 . Did Newton take any notice of the rustic's information? — 4 . When he had made
but a few miles, what happened? — 5. What did the philosopher then do, and
what did he say to the shepherd? — 6. What was the boy's reply? — 7. What
did Newton exlaim? — S. What did he think of his discovery?
34. Almanac Weather Wisdom.
An English paper tells a pleasing anecdote o f Partridge, the celebra-
ted almanac maker, about one hundred years since. In travelling on horse-
back into the country, he stopped for his dinner at an inn, and afterwards
called for his horse, that he might reach the next town, where he intended
to sleep.
If you will take my advice, Sir,» said the hostler, as he was about
to mount his horse, «you will stay where you are for the night, as you
will surely be overtaken by a pelting rain » .
"Nonsense, nonsense », exclaimed the almanac maker »; «thereisa six-
pence for you, my honest fellow, and good afternoon to you».
He proceeded on his journey, and sure enough he was well drenched
in a heavy shower. Partridge was struck by the man's prediction, and
being always intent on the interest of his almanac, he rode back on the
instant, and was received by the hostler with a broad grin,
tiWell, Sir, you see I was right after all».
-_ SI —
«Yes, my lad, you have been so, and here is a crown for you; but I
give it to you on condition that you tell me how you knew of this rain ».
«To be sure, Sir», replied the man; «why , the truth is we have an
almanac at our house called Partridge's il/manac, and the fellow is such
a notorious liar, that whenever he promises us a fine day, we always
know that it will be the direct contrary. Now, your Honour, this day, the
21st of June, is put down in our almanac indoors as «settledfine weather;
no rain». I looked at that before I brought your Honour's horse out, and
so was enabled to put you oo your guard».
Questions.
1. Of whom does an English paper tell a pleasant anecdote? — 2. When and
why did he stop? — 3 . What did he do afterwards?
4. What did the hostler say to him, as he was about to mount his horse?
5. What did the almanac maker exclaim?
6. While proceeding on his journey, what happened? — 7 . What did Partridge
do on the instant, and how was he received by the hostler?
8. What did the hostler say, and what was Patridge's answer?
9. What was the man's reply?
35. Singular Cases of Inability to Distinguish Colours.
Mr. Harris, a shoemaker at Allonby, was unable from infancy to dis-
tinguish the cherries of a cherrytree from its leaves, in so far as colours
were concerned. Two of his brothers were equally defective in this re-
spect, and always mistook orange for grass green, and light green for
yellow. Harris himself could only distinguish black from white. Mr. Scott,
who describes his own case in the « Philosophical Transactions », mistook
pink for a pale blue, and afullr^rffor a full green. All kinds of yellows
and blues, except sky blue, he could discern with great nicety. His father,
his maternal uncle, one of his sisters, and her two sons, had all the same
defect. A tailor at Plymouth, whose case is described by Mr. Harvey,
regarded the solar spectrum as consisting only oi yellow md light blue.,
and he could distinguish with certainty only yellow, while, and green.
He regarded indigo and Prussian blue as black,
Ctaestions.
1. What was Mr. Harris from infancy unable to do? — 2. For what did his
brothers mistake orange and light greenl — ,3. What could Harris himself
only distinguish? — 4. For what did Mr, Scott mistake pink, and a full red?
— 32 —
— 5. What colours could he discern coirectly? — 6. Who had all the same
defect? — How did a tailor at Plymouth regard the solar spectrum, and what
could he distinguish with certainty? — 8. What did he regard as black?
36. Alick.
There is still living at Stirling a blind old beggar, known to all the
country round by the name of Alick, who possesses a memory of almost
incalculable strength. It was observed with astonishment, that when he
was a man, and obliged by the death of his parents to gain a livelihood
by begging through the streets of his native town of Stirling, he knew
the whole of the Bible, both Old and New Testaments, by heart; from
which you may repeat any passage, and he will tell you thechapter and verse;
or you may tell him the chapter and verse, and he will repeat to you the
passage, word for word. Not long since, a gentleman, to puzzle him,
read, with a slight verbal alteration, averse of the Bible. Alick hesitated
a moment, and then told where it was to be found, but said it had not
been correctly delivered. He then gave it as it stood in the book, cor-
recting the slight error that had been purposely introduced. The gentleman
then asked him for the ninetieth verse of the seventh chapter of Numbers.
Alick was again puzzled for a moment, but then said hastily: «You are
fooling me, Sir! there is no such verse. That chapter has only eighty-
nine verses ». Several other experiments of the sort were tried upon him
with the same success. He has often been questioned the day after hearing
any particular sermon or speech; and his examiners have invariably found
that, had their patience aUowed, blind Alick would have given them the
sermon or speech.
duestions.
1. Who is still liviii:^ at Stirling, and what does he possess? — 2. What was
observed with astonishment? — 3 . What did a gentleman do to puzzle him? —
4. What answer did Alick give? — 5. What did the gentleman then ask him for? —
6. What was Alick's reply? — 7. When questioning him the day after hearing
any particular sermon or speech, what have his examiners invariably found?
37, Professor Por so II.
Professor Porson, when a boy at Eton School, discovered tlie most
astonishing powers of memory. In going up to a lesson one day, he was
— 33 -
•
accosted by a boy on the same form, «Porson, wliat have you got there?*
« Horace*. Let me look at it». Person handed the book to the boy, who,
pretending to return it, dexterously substituted another in its place, with
which Porson proceeded. Being called on by the master, he read and con-
strued Carm. I, X. very regularly. Observing the class to laugh, the master
said: « Porson, you seem to be reading on one side of the page, while I
am looking at the other; pray, whose edition have you?)> Porson hesita-
ted. «Let me see it», rejoined the master who, to his great surprise,
found it to be an English Ovid. Porson was ordered to go on, which he did
easily, correctly and promptly, to the end of the ode.
duest ions.
1. What did Professor Porson discover when a boy? — 2. What did a boy
on the same form say to thim? — 3. When Porson handed his « Horace » to
him, what did the boy do with it? — 4. Being called on by the master, what
did he read and construe? — 5. On observing the class to laugh, what did the
master say? — 6. When the master had looked at the book, what did he find
it to be? — 7. What was Porson ordered to do, and how did he succeed?
38. The Travelling Library.
Professor Porson, the celebrated Grecian, was once travelling in a
stage-coach, where a young Oxonian, fresh from coUege, was amusing
the ladies with a variety of talk, and amongst other things, with a quo-
,tation, as he said, from Sophocles. A' Greek quotation, and in a coach
ioo, roused the slumbering professor from a kind of dog-sleep, in a snug
corner of the vehicle. Shaking his ears and rubbing his eyes, «I think,
young gentleman « , said he, « you favoured us just now with a quotation from
Sophocles; 1 do not happen to recollect it there ». «0, Sir», replied the tyro,
«the quotation is word for word as I have repeated it, and from Sophocles,
too; but I suspect. Sir, it is some time since you were at college*. The
professor, applying his hand to his great-coat pocket, and taking out a
smaH pocket edition of Sophocles, quietly asked him if he would be kind
enough to show him the passage in question in that little book. After
rummaging the pages for some time, he replied: «Upon second thoughts,
I now recoHect that the passage is in Euripides*. «Then, perhaps, Sir»,
said the professor, putting his hand again into his pocket, and handing
him a similar edition of Euripides, «you wiH be so good as to find it for
5
— 34 —
me in that little book«. The young Oxonian again returned to his task,
but with no better success, muttering, however, to himself a vow never
again to quote Greek in a stage-coach. The tittering of the ladies informed
him plainly that he had got into a hobble. At last, «Why, Sir», said he,
«how dull I am! I recollect now; yes, now I perfectly remember that
the passage is in Aeschylus». The inexorable professor returned to his
inexhaustible pocket, and was in the act of handing him an Aeschylus,
when our astonished freshman vociferated: «Coachman! holloa, coachman!
let me out; I say instantly let me out! There's a fellow here has the whole
Bodleian library in his pocket*.
Questions.
1. Who was once travelling in a stage-coach? — 2. With what was a young
Oxonian amusing the ladies? — 3. What effect had the Greek quotation on the
professor? — 4. What did he say to the young gentleman? — 5. What did the
tyro reply? — 6. What did the professor take out of his pocket, and what did
he ask his fellow traveller? — 7. What did the latter reply? — 8. What did the
professor then do and say? — 9. Had the young Oxonian better success now? —
10. Of what did the tittering of the ladies inform him? — 11. What did he
say at last? — 12. What followed?
39. The National Debt of Euglaod.
If a man was employed to count the national debt o1f England, suppos-
ing he reckoned 100 pieces every minute for 12 hours a day, it would
require 30 years to count it in sovereigns, 600 years to count it in silver,
and 14,400 years to count it in copper.
In shillings placed in a line, it would reach ten times round the earth,
or once to the moon (240,000 miles).
Its weight in gold is 5,625 tons, in silver 89,000 tons, in copper
2,140,000 tons.
It would take 100 barges, 56 tons burden each, to carry it in gold,
1600 barges to carry it in silver, or 382,000 barges to carry it in copper.
These wouldreach 5000 miles, if placed close to one another.
To carry it in copper, it would take upwards of 2,100,000 of carts,
each one ton; to carry it in silver, nearly 90,000 carts, and to carry it
in gold, 5,625 carts.
— 35 —
Questions.
1. How many years would it take to count the national debt of England in
sovereigns, in silver, and in copper?
2. If it were placed in a line in shillings, how far would that line reach?
3. What is its weight in gold, in silver, and in copper?
4. How many barges would it take to carry it in gold, in silver, and in cop-
per? — 5. How far would these barges reach?
6. How many carts would be required to carry it in copper, in silver, and
in gold.
40, Doing Justice io the Consonants.
Mr. Jones, in his life of Bishop Home, speaking of Dr. Hiochcliffe,
Bishop of Peterborough, says, that in the pulpit he spoke with the accent
of a man of sense, such as he reaUy was in a superior degree; but it was
remarkable, and, to those who did notknow the cause, mysterious, that
there was not a corner of the church, in which he could not be heard
distinctly. The reason whichMr. Jones assigned was, that he made it an
invariable rule to do justice to every consonant, knowing that the
vowels would speak for themselves. And thus he became the surest
and clearest of speakers; his elocution was perfect, and never disappointed
his audience.
/I
Question s.
1. What does Mr. Jones say of Dr. Hinchcliffe? — 2. What reason is as-
signed, why the Bishop could be heard distinctly in every corner of the church?
— 3. What did he thus become? — 4. How was his elocution?
41. Vulgar Pronunciation,
One of the peculiarities of vulgar English pronunciation is to put the
letter r at the end of words ending with a vowel. Some of the inhabitiints
of London, if they had to speak the following sentence, «A fellow broke
the window, and hit Isabella on the elbow, as she was playing a sonata
on the piano », would give it in the following manner: «A fellor broke the
windor, and hit Isabellar on the elbor, as she was playing a sonatar on
the pianor». Others adopt the contrary plan, and leave out the r as often
as they can. There are magistrates of high pretensions to education, who
would say, «The conduct of the prisna' and his general characta' render
— 36 —
it propa' that he should no longa'bea memba' of this community*. Equally
glaring is the taking away of h from places where it is required, and
giving it where its absence is desirable. The termination of words ending
ming with a /c, as somethink^ is not less incorrect or less disagreeable.
It is worth while accasionally to point out these errors, as many must be
disposed to correct them, on being made aware of their existence.
Qlaestions.
1. Mention one of the peculiarities of vulgar English pronunciation? — 2.
How would some of the inhabitants of London give the following sentence: «A
fellow broke the window, and hit Isabella on the elbow, as she was playing a
sonata on the piano ?» — 3. What plan do others adopt? — 4. What would
magistrates of high presentions to education say? — 5. What mistake is equally
glaring, and what not less incorrect? — Why is it worth while occasionally to
p oint out these errors?
42. Lying Punished.
One day there happened a tremendous storm of lightning and thunder
as Archbishop Leighton was gcing from Glasgow to Dunblane. He was
descried, when at a distance, by two men of bad character. They had
not courage to rob him; but, wishing to fall on some method of extorting
money from him, one said: «I will lie down by the wayside as if I were
dead, and you shall inform the archbishop that I was killed by the light-
ning, and beg money of him to bury rae». When the archbishop arrived
at the spot, the wicked wretch told him the fabricated story. He sympa-
thised with the surviver, gave him money, and proceeded on his journey.
But, when the man returned to his companion, he found him really lifeless!
Immediately he began to exclaim aloud: «0h, Sir, he is dead! Oh, Sir,
he is dead! » On this the archbishop, discovering the fraud, left the man
with this important reflection: «It is a dangerous thing to trifle with the
judgments of God ! »
Questions.
1. What happened one day, as Archbishop Leighton was going to Dunblane?
— 2. By whom was he descried? — 3. What method did they find out of ex-
torting money from the Archbishop? — 4. What did he do, when the fabricated
story was told him? — 5. What did the man find on returning to his compan-
ion, and what did he immediately exclaim? — 6. With what important
reflection did the Archbishop leave the man?
— 37 —
43. Mr. Dodd.
Mr. Dodd, an eminent minister, being solicitedtoplay at cards, arose
from his seat, and uncovered his head. The company asked him what he
was going to do. He replied: « To crave Grod's blessings. They immediately
exclaimed: « We never ask a blessing on such an occasion». «Then»,
said he, «I never engage in anything but what I beg of God to give his
blessing".
CiuestioBS.
1, What did Mr. Dodd do, when solicited to play at cards? — 2. What did
the company ask him, and what was his reply?— 3. What did they immediately
exclaim? — 4. What did he say? -
44. Private Prayer.
<( Acknoivledge the Lord in all thy wat/s, and he shall direct thy
paths)y. Prov. An English clergyman, preaching from this text, observed
as follows:
« Archbishop Cranmer, who died a martyr, said that the day he signed
his recantation back to popery he omitted private prayer in the morning.
This brought to my recollection the two memorable occurrences of my
life, when I omitted private prayer, and went to my business. On each
day I had an accident that nearly cost me my life; but in mercy I was
spared to my family. Private prayer is a high privilege. I cannot neglect
it any more than I can neglect my food, it is my grand stay for each day;
and I feel that, unless I acknowledge God herein, I have no right to
expect his guidance and protection «.
(tuestions.
- 1. From what text did an English clergyman preach? — 2. What did he ob-
serve of Archbishop Cranmer? — 3. What two memorable occuwences did this
circumstance bring to the clergyman's recollection? — 4. What is said of private
prayer?
45. The Praying Little Girl.
A little girl in London, about four years of age, was one day playing
with her companions. Taking them by the hand, she led them to a shed
in the yard, and asked them all to kneel down, as she was going to pray
— 38 —
to God Almighty; «but don't yoii tell my mamma >> , said she, «for she
never prays, and would beat me, if she knew that I do».
Instead of keeping the secret, one of her playmates went directly, and'
told this little girl's mother, who was very much struck, bat for the pres-
ent took no notice. Some time after, on her going in doors, her mother
asked her what she had been doing in the yard; she tried to avoid giving
a direct answer. The question being repeated, the answer was the same;
when her mother, however, promised not to be angry with her, and press-
ed the inquiry by very kind words, she said: «I have been praying to
God Almighty». «But why do you pray to him» ? «Because I know he
hears me, and I love to pray to him». «But how do you know he hears
you»? This was a difficult question, indeed, but mark her reply; putting
her little hand to her heart, she said: «0h, I know he does». This lan-
guage pierced her mother's heart, who was a stranger to prayer, and she
wept bitterly.
Let good children, therefore, do as this little girl did, bow their knees
before God Almighty; and, however short and feeble their little prayers,
they may be sure he hears them if they are offered in earnest; for he
says: «I love them that love me; and they that seek me early shall find me« .
(luestions.
1. What was a little girl doing one day. — 2. Where did she lead thera, and
what did she ask them to do? — 3 . Why were her companions not to tell her
mamma?
4. What did one of her playmates do? — 5. What did her mother ask her
some time after, and what did the little girl try to do? — 6. When the inquiry
was pressed by very kind words, what did she say? — 7. Why did the little
girl pray? — 8. When asked how she knew God heard her, what did she say? —
9. What effect had these words on her mother?— 10. What does God Almighty say?
46. A better Rule tlian «E xpediency».
Lord Erskine, when at the bar, was always remarkable for the fear-
lessness with which he contended against the bench. In a contest he had
with Lord Kenyon , he explained the rule and conduct at the bar in the
following terms: «It was» , said he, «the first command and council of
my youth, always to do what my conscience told me to be my duty,an(l
leave the consequences to God. I have hitherto followed it, and have no
reason to complain that obedience to it has been even a temporal sacri-
^ 39 -
fice; I have found it, on the contrary, the road to prosperity and wealth,
and I shall point it out as such to my children*.
Questions.
1. For what was Lord Erskine remarkable? — 2; With whom had he a con-
test?— 3. In what terms did he explain his rule and conduct at the bar?
47. The Missionary Mouey-box.
A few weeks since a trading vessel, laden with corn, from Cardigan,
in Wales, was taken in the channel by an American privateer. When the
captain went into the cabin to survey his prize, he espied a little box, with
a hole in the top, similar to that which tradesmen have in their counters,
through which they drop their money; and at the sight of it he seemed a little
surprised, and said to the Welsh captain: «What is this? » pointing to the
box with his stick. «0h», said the honest Cambrian, « 'tis all over now. »
«What?» asked the American. «Why, the truth is», replied the Welsh
captain, « that I and my poor fellows have been accustomed, every Monday,
to drop a penny each into that box, for the purpose of sending out mis-
sionaries to preach the gospel to the heathen^ but it is all over noW"!
«Ah»! said the American, «that is very good»; and, after pausing a few
minutes, he said: « Captain, Til not hurt a hair of your head, nor touch
yourvesseb). The pious Welshman was accordingly allowed to pursue his
voyage unmolested.
Questions.
1 . What happened to a trading vessel from Cardigan? — 2 . Wliat did the
captain of the privateer espy in the cabin? — 3, What explanation did the
Welsh captain give, when asked what the box was? — 4. What did the
American say to this, and what did he add after a few minutes? — 5. What
followed?
48. Dr. Franklin on Prayer.
When the American Convention was framing their constitution , Dr.
Franklin asked them how it happened that, while groping, as it were, in
the dark to find political truth, they had not once thought of humbly
applying to the Father of lights to illumine their understandings. »I have
lived, Sir», said he, «a long time, and the longer I live, the more con-
vincing proofs I see of this truth, that God governs in the affairs of men;
#
- 40 -^
and if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without his notice, is it pro-
bable that an empire can rise without his aid? We have been assured, Sir,
in the Sacred Writings, that, except the Lord build the house, they la-
bour in vain that build it. I firmly believe this; and I also believe that with-
out his concurring aid we shall succeed in tliis political building no better
than the builders of Babel. We shall be divided by our little partial local
interests; our project will be confounded, and we ourselves become a
reproach and a byword down to future ages». He then moved that prayers
should be performed in that assembly every morning before they proceeded
to business.
Questions.
1. WhatdidDr. Franklin asli the American Couvention? — 5. What statements
did he make? — 3. What did he then move?
49. Washington.
One Reuben Rouzy, of Virginia, owed the general about one thousand
pounds. While President of the United States, one of his agents, brought
an action for the money; judgment was obtained, and execution issued
against the body of the defendant who was taken to jail. He had a con-
siderable landed estate; but this kind of property cannot be sold in Virginia
for debts unless at the discretion of the person. He had a large family,
and for the sake of his children preferred lying in jail to selling his land.
A friend hinted to him that probably General Washington did not know
anything of the proceeding, and that it might be well to send him a pe-
tition, with a statement of the circumstances. He did so, and the very
next post from Philadelphia after the arrival of his petition in that city
brought him an order for his immediate release, together with a full dis-
charge, and a severe reprimand to the agent for having acted in such a
manner. Poor Rouzy was, in consequence, restored to his family, who
never laid down their heads at night without presenting prayers to Hea-
ven for their «beloved Washington «. Providence smiled upon the la-
bours of the grateful family, and in a few years Rouzy enjoyed the ex-
quisite pleasure of being able to lay the one thousand pounds, with the
interest, at the feet of this truly great man. Washington reminded him that
the debt was discharged; Rouzy replied, the debt of his family to the
father of their country and preserver of their parent could never be dis-
charged; and the General, to avoid the pleasing importunity of the grateful
— 41 —
Virginian, who would not be denied, accepted the money, only, however,
to divide it among Rouzy's children, which he immediately did.
(luestions.
1. How much did Reuben Rouzy owe General Washington? — 2. What did
one of the general's agents do, and what was the consequence? — 3. What did
the defendant possess? — 4. Why did he not sell his property to pay his debts? —
5. What did a friend hint to him? — 6. What did the next post bring him? —
7. What was the consequence? — 8. What was Rouzy enabled to do in a few
years? — 9. What followed?
50. An Illiislralioii of a Special Providence aod of the Power
of Prayer.
Captain H. and crew sailed some time since from the port of. — After
haying been at sea for several days they were assailed by an unusually
severe storm, which continued forty-five days and nights in succession.
They were driven far from their course by the violence of the wind. Nature
had become nearly exhausted by hard and long toiling; and, to add to
their affliction, famine began to threaten them with a death far moreappalling
than that of a watery grave.
The captain had with him his wife, two daughters, and ten persons
besides. As their provisions grew short, his wife became provident and
careful of the pittance that fell to their family share. She would eat but
little lest her husband should starve. The children would eat but little for
fear the mother would suffer, and the captain refused to eat any, but left
his portion for his suffering family. At length they were reduced to a scanty
allowance for twenty-four hours, in the midst of a storm and one thousand
miles from land . Captain H. was a man who feared God. In this his extremity
he ordered his steward to bring the remaining provision on deck, and
spread the same on the tarpawling which covers the hatch; and, falling
down beside the fragments of bread and meat before him, he lifted up his
voice in prayer to Him who heareth out of the deep, and said: «0 thou
who didst feed Elijah by a raven while in the wilderness, and who com-
maudedst that the widow's cruise of oil and barrel of meal should not fail,
look .down upon us in our present distress, and grant that this food may
be so multiplied that the lives now in jeopardy may be preserved*. After
this he rose from his knees, went to the companion way, and found his
6
— 42 -
wife and children engaged in the same holy exercise. He exhorted them
to pray on, and assured them that God had answered his prayer, and that
not one soul then on board should perish. Scarcely had he uttered these
words when his mate , who had been at the masthead for some time on
the look-out, exclaimed: «Sail ahoy, sail ahoy! » At this crisis the captain
shouted with swelling gratitude: « What, has God sent the ravens already! »
and in one hour from that time, through the friendly sail, barrels of bread
and meat were placed upon the deck.
Gluestions.
1. By what were Captain H..and crew assailed? — 2. What had nature
become, and with what did famine threaten them?
3. Whom had the captain with him^ — 4. How did they care for each
other? — 5. To what were they at length reduced? — 6. What was CaptainH.,
and what did he do in this extremity? — 8. Where did he go after his prayer,
and how did he find his family? — 8. What did he assure them of? — 9. What
happened immediately afterwards, and what exclamation did the captain make?
51. The Bible a Shield for Soul and Body.
When Oliver Cromwell entered upon the command of the parliament's
army against Charles 1, he ordered all his soldiers to carry a Bible in
their pockets. Among the rest there was a wild, wicked young fellow,
who ran away from his apprenticeship in London for the sake of plunder
and dissipation. This fellow was obliged to be in the fashion. Being one
day ordered out upon a skirmishing party, or to attack some fortress, he
returned back to his quarters in the evening without hurt. When he was
going to bed, pulling the Bible out of his pocket, he observed a hole in
it. His curiosity led him to trace the depth of this hole into his Bible;
he found a bullet was gone as far as Ecclesiastes XI, 9. He read the
verse: « Rejoice, oh young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer
thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart, and
in the sight of thine eyes; but know thou that for all these things God
will bring thee into judgments. The words were set home upon his heart
by the Divine Spirit, so that he became a sound believer in the Lord
Jesus Christ, and lived in London many years after the civil wars. were
over. He used pleasantly to observe to Dr. Evans, author of the Christian
Temper, that the Bible was the means of saving both his soul and body.
— 43 —
Questions.
What did Oliver Croravell order all his soldiers to do? — 2. What sort of
person was there among the rest? — 3. Where was he ordered out one day, and
in what condition did he return to his quarters? — 4. What did he observe,
when he was going to bed?— 5. How far was the bullet gone into the Bible? —
6. What effect did the words produce on him?— 7. What did he iise to observe
to Dr. Evans?
52. Houesty the Best Policy.
Some years since there resided in a country village a poor but worthy
clergyman who , Avith the small stipend of forty pounds per annum,
supported himself, a wife, and seven children. At one time, walking and
meditating in the fields, in much distress from the narrowness of his
circumstances, he stumbled on a purse of gold- Looking round, in vain,
to find its owner, he carried it home to his wife, who advised him to
employ at least a part of it in extricating them from their present difficulty;
but he conscientiously refused until he had used his utmost endeavours
to find out its former proprietor, assuring her that honesty is always
the best policy. After a short time it was owned by a gentleman who
lived at some little distance, to whom the clergyman returned it without
any other reward than thanks. On the good man's return, his wife could
not help reproaching the gentleman with ingratitude, and censuring the
over-scrupulous honesty of her husband; but he only replied as before,
honesty is the best policy. A few months after this the curate received
an invitation io dine with the aforesaid gentleman; who, after hospitably
entertaining him, gave him the presentation to a living of three hundred
pounds per annum, to which he added a bill of fifty pounds for present
necessities. The curate, after making suitable acknowledgements to his
benefactor, returned with joy to his wife and family, acquainting them
with the happy change in his circumstances, and adding that he hoped
she would now be convinced that honesty was the best policy^ to
which she readily assented.
(laestions.
1. Who resided in a country village? — 2. What was he doing one day,
and on what did he stumble — 3 . On being advised to employ part of the
money in extricating himself from his present difficulty, what did he reply? —
_ 44 —
4. Was the purse owned by any one? — 5. Did the clergyman return the
money, and what reward did he receive? — 6. What could the good man's
wife, on his return, not help doing? — 7. What was his reply? — 8. What
happened to the curate a few months after? -— 9. How did the curate feel,
and what did he say to his family?
53. Remarkable Escape from Danger.
There is a singular adventure, recorded by Ihe Captain of a Guinea-
man, and as it is not very long, it will be here related in the Captain's
own words, for the amusement and advantage of our readers.
The ocean was very smooth, and the heat very great, which made us
so languid, that almost a general wish overcame us on the approach of
the evening, to bathe in the waters of the Congo. However, land Johnson
were deterred from it by an apprehension of Sharks, many of which we
had observed in the progress of our voyage, and those very large. — Camp-
bell alone, who had been drinking too much, was obstinately bent on going
over board, and although we us'ed every means in our power to persuade
him to the contrary, he dashed into the water, and had swum some distance
from the vessel, when we on board discovered an alligator, making towards
him behind a rock that stood a short distance from the shore.— His escape
I now considered impossible, and I applied to Johnson to know how we
should act, who, like myself, affirmed the impossibility ofsavinghim, and
instantly seized upon a loaded carbine, to shoot the poor fellow, ere he
fell into the jaws of the monster. 1 did not, however, consent to this, but
waited, with horror, the event; yet, willing to do all in my power, I or-
dered the boat to be hoisted, and we fired two shot at the approaching
alligator, but without effect; for they glided over his scaly covering, like
hail stones on a tiled penthouse, and the progress of the creature was by
no means impeded. The report of the piece, and the noise of the blacks
from the sloop, soon made Campbell acquainted with his danger: he saw
the creature making towards him, and with all the strength and skill he
was master of, he made for the shore. And now the moment arrived, in
which a scene was exhibited, beyond the power of my humble pen per-
fectly to describe. On approaching within a very short distance of some
canes and shrubs, that covered the banks, while closely pursued by the
alligator, a fierce and ferocious tiger sprang towards him, at the instant
the jaws of his first enemy were extended to devour him. —At this awful
— 45 —
moment Campbell was preserved. The eager tiger, by overleaping, fell
into the gripe of the alligator. A horrible conflict then ensued. — The water
was coloured with the blood of the tiger, whose efforts to tear the scaly
covering of the alligator were unavailing, while the latter had also the
advantage of keeping his adversary underwater, by which the victory was
presently obtained; for the tiger's death was now effected. They both
sunk to the bottom, and we saw no more of the alligator. Campbell was
recovered, and instantly conveyed on board; he spoke not, while in the
boat, though his danger had sobered him: but the moment he leaped on
the deck, fell on his knees, and returned thanks to the Providence which
had so protected him; and what is most singular, from that moment to
the time I am now writing, he has never been seen the least intoxicated,
nor has been heard to utter a single oath.
(luestions.
1 . What general wish overcame the persons on board the Guineaman? —
2. What deterred the Captain and Johnson from bathing? — 3. On vfhat vpas
Campbell obstinately bent, and what did he do?— 4. When he had swum some
distance, what did those on board discover? — 5. What did Johnson seize upon,
and for what purpose? — 6. What did the captain order to be done, and how
many shot did they fire, and with what effect? — 7. With what was Campbell
made acquainted, and what did he see? — 8. What happened on Campbell's
approaching the bank? — 9. Describe the conflict between the tiger and the
alligator? — 10 Where was Campbell conveyed, and what effect had his remark-
able escape on him?
k
54. Ncwi'ouudland Dogs.
A vessel was once driven by a storm on the beach, in the county of
Kent, in England. Eight men were calling for help, but not a boat could
be got off for their assistance... at length a gentleman came on the beach
accompanied by his Newfoundland dog.He directed the attention of the noble
animal to the vessel, and put a short stick into his mouth. The intelligent
and courageous dog at onco understood his meaning, and sprang into ihe
sea, fighting his way through the foaming waves. He could not, however,
get close enough to the vessel to deliver that with which he was charged,
but the crew joyfully, made fast a rope to another piece of wood, and threw
it towards him... The sagacious dog saw the whole business in an instant,
he dropped his own piece, and immediately seized that which had been
— 46 —
cast tu him; and then, with a degree of strength and resolution almost
incredible, he dragged it through the surge, and delivered it to his master. . .
By this means a line ofcommunication was formed, and every man on board
saved.
Sometimes the dog is rather officious in his demonstrations of affec-
tion, as the following story will show. —A boatman once plunged into
the water to swim with another man for a wager. His Newfoundland dog,
mistaking the purpose, and supposing that his master was in danger,
plunged after him, and dragged him to the shore by his hair, to the great
amusement of the spectators.
Ciuestions.
1. Where was a vessel once driven by a storm? — 2. Who were calling
for help, and why could they not be assisted? — 3. Who came on the beach? —
4. To what did the gentleman direct the attention of the dog, and what did he
put into his mouth? — 5. What did the intelligent dog then do, and how did
the crew act? — 6. What did the dog at once see, and what did he do with the
rope thrown towards him? — 7. What followed? — 8. What is the New-
foundland dog said sometimes to be? — 9. What is related of a boatman and his
Newfoundland dog?
55. A Priceless Dog.
A gentleman was lately returning from a visit to New - Orleans, in a
steamer, with but a few passengers. Among the ladies, one especially
interested him. She was the wife of a wealthy planter, returning with an
only child to her father's house; and her devotion to this child was touching.
While passing through the canal of Louisville, the steamer stopped
for a lew moments at the quay. The nurse, wishing to see the city, was
stepping ashore, when the child suddenly sprang from her arms into the
terrible current that swept towards the falls, and disappeared immediately.
The confusion which ensued attracted the attention of a gentleman who
was sitting in the fore part of the boat, quietly reading. Rising hastily,
he asked for some article the child had worn. The nurse handed him a
tiny apron she had torn off in her efforts to save the child asitfell. Turn-
ing to a splendid Newfoundland dog that was eagerly watching his coun-
tenance the gentleman pointed first to the apron, and then to the spot where
the child had sunk.
— 47 -
In an instant , the noble dog leapt into the water , and disappeared.
By this time the excitement was intense, and some person on sliore sup-
posing that the dog was lost, as well as the child, procured a boat, and
started to search for the body.
Just at this moment the dog was seen far away with something in his
mouth. Bravely he struggled with the waves, but it was clear his strength
was failing fast , and more than one breast gave a sigh of relief as the
boat reached him, and it was announced that he was still alive. They were
brought on board— the dog and the child.
Giving a single glance to satisfy herself that the child was really living,
the young mother rushed forward, and sinking beside the dog, threw her
arm around his neck, and burst into tears. Not many could bear the sight
unmoved , and as she caressed and kissed his shaggy head , she looked
up to his owner, and said:
«0h, sir, I must have this dog, take all I have- — everything — but
give me my child's preserver ».
The gentleman smiled, and patting his dog's head, said: «I am very
glad , madam , he 4ias been of service to you , but nothing in the world
could induce me to part with him».
The dog looked as though he perfectly understood what they were
talking about , and giving his sides a shake , laid himself down at his
master's feet, with an expression in his large eyes, that said plainer than
words: «No! nothing shall part us».
Claestions.
1. From what place was a gentleman lately returning, and with whom? —
2. Who was the lady that especially interested him? — 3. What is said of her
devotion to her only child?
4. Where did the steamer stop for a few moments? — 5. What happened
as the child's nurse was stepping ashore? — 6. Whose attention did the confusion
attract? — 7. What did the gentleman ask for? — 8. What did the nurse hand
him? — 9. What did the gentleman then do?
10. On the dog's disappearing in the water, what did a person onshore do?
• 11. Where was the dog at this moment seen, and with what? — 12. Were
the child and the dog saved?
13. How did the young mother act on finding that her child was really alive?
14. What did she say to the owner of the dog?
15. What did the gentleman answer?
16. How did the dog look, and what did he do ?
- 48 -
56. Caniue Sagacity.
The following story, which illustrates in a singular manner the com-
munication of ideas between dogs, was told by a clergyman, as an au-
thentic anecdote.
A surgeon of Leeds found a little spaniel who had been lamed. He
carried the poor animal home, bandaged up his leg, and, after two or
three days, turned him out. — The dog returned to the surgeon's house
every morning, till his leg was perfectly well. At the end of several
months, the spaniel again presented himself, in company with another
dog, who had also been lamed; and he intimated, as well as piteous and
intelligent looks could intimate, that he desired the same kind assistance
to be rendered to his friend, as had been bestowed upon himself. A si-
milar circumstance is stated to have occurred to Morant, a celebrated
French surgeon.
The following instance also affords a remarkable proof of the saga-
city of these animals. — A British officer in the ^Mh regiment, who
had occasion when in Paris, to pass one of the bridges across the Seine,
had his boots, which had been previously well polished, dirtied by a
poodle dog rubbing against them. — He in consequence, went to a man
who was stationed on the bridge, and had them cleaned. — The same
circumstance having occurred more than once, his curiosity was excited,
and he watched the dog. He saw him roll himself in the mud of the
river, and then watch for a person with well polished boots, against
which he contrived to rub himself. — Finding that the shoe black was
the owner of the dog, he taxed him with the artifice; and after a little
hesitation, he confessed, that he had taught the dog the trick in order
to procure customers for himself. The officer being much struck with the
dog's sagacity, purchased him at a high price, and brought him to Eng-
land. He kept him tied up in London for some time, and then released
him. The dog remained with him a day or two, and then made his es-
cape. A fortnight afterwards he was found again in Paris playing his
old tricks on the bridge as before.
duestions.
1. What does the above story illustrate? — 2. What did a surgeon of Leeds
iind, and what did he do to the dog':' — 3. What did the dog do every morn-
ing? — 4. Who presented himself again at the end of several months, and
with whom? — 5. What did he intimate?
— 49 —
6. What happened to a British officer on one of the bridges across the
Seine? — 7. What did he do in consequence? — 8. What did he see on watch-
ing the dog? — 9. What did the owner of the dog confess? — 10. What did
the officer then do? — 11. How long did the dog, Avheu released, remain with
the officer, and where was he found a fortnight afterwards?
57. More Faitliful than Favoured.
Sir Harry Lee of Ditchley, in Oxfordshire, ancestor of the Earls of
Lichfield, had a mastiff which guarded the house and yard, but had never
met with the least particular attention from' his master, and was retained
for his utility alone, and not from any particular regard. One night as his
master was retiring to 4iis chamber, attended by his valet, an Italian,
the mastiff silently followed him up stairs, which he had never been known
to do before, and, to his master's astonishment, presented himself in his
bedroom. Being deemed an intruder he was instantly ordered to be turned
out; which being done, the poor animal began scratching at the door, and
howling loudly for admission. The servant was sent to drive him away.
Discouragement could not check his intended labour of love, or rather
providential impulse; he returned again, and was more importunate than
before to be let in. Sir Harry weary of opposition, bade the servant to
open the door, that they might see what he wanted to do. 'This done the
mastiff with a wag of his tail, and a look of affection at his Lord, deli-
berately walked up, and crawling under the bed, laid himself down, as'
if desirous to take up his night's lodging there. To save farther trouble,
but not from any partiality for his company, the indulgence was allowed-
About the solemn hour of midnight the chamber door was opened, and a
person was heard stepping across the room: Sir Harry started from his
sleep; the dog sprung from his covert, and seizing the unwelcome dis-
turber, fixed him to the spot! All was dark; and Sir Harry rang his bell
in great precipitation, in order to procure a light. The person who was
pinned to the floor by the courageous mastiff, roared for assistance. It
was found to be the valet, who little expected such a reception. He en-
deavoured to apologize for his intrusion, and to make the reasons, which
induced him to take this step, plausible; but the importunity of the dog,
the time, the place, the manner of the valet, all raised suspicion in Sir
Harry's mind; and he determined to refer the investigation of the business
7
— bo-
te a magistrate. The perfidious Italian, alternately terrified by the dread-
of punishment, and soothed with the hopes of pardon , at length confessed,
that it was his intention to murder his master, and then rob the house,
which design was only frustrated by the instinctive attachment of the dog
to his master, which seemed to be directed on this occasion by the in-
terference of Providence. A full length picture of the dog and his master,
and the words «More faithful than favoured » are still to be seen at the
family seat at Ditchley.
Cluest-ion s.
1. What is said of Sir Harry's mastilf'^ — 2. What did he do one night? —
3. What followed? — 4. When Sir Harry bade the servant open the door, what
did the mastiff do?— 5. What happened about the solemuhour of midnight? —
6. What did the perfidious Italian at last confess? — 7. What picture is stiUto
be seen at the family seat at Ditchley, and what words are under it?
58. Bill, the Fire-escape Dog.
There is a fine band of men in London, who have charge of the fire-
escapes: which are immense movable ladder-machines, by which people
descend of themselves, or are conveyed, from the windows of a house
on fire. Samuel Wood, one of the bravest of those men, has saved more
than one hundred men, women, and children, from the flames! Bluch of
Wood's success, however, is justly due to his wonderful little dog «Bill».
Around his neck the parishioners of Wliitechapel have placed a silver
collar, in token of his valuable services during the nine years that he
has filled the important post of « Fire-escape Dog».
Bill, like his master, has to be very wakeful, and at his post of
duty during the whole of the night, and therefore he sleeps during the
day close to his master's bed. He never attempts to run out of doors un-
til the hour approaches at which they must go to the «Station».
Bill does not allow his master to sleep too long. He is sure to wake
him, if he is likely to be late! How the dog knows the time is a puzzle,
but know it he does! When the fire escape is wheeled out of the White-
chapel Churchyard, at nine o'clock, Bill is promptly at his post. When
an alarm of fire is heard, Bill, who is at other times very quiet, now
begins to bark most furiously. Wood has no occasion to spring his rattle;
for the policemen all around know Bill's bark so well that they at once
come up to render help.
— si-
ll the alarm of fire takes place, when but few people are in the
streets, Bill runs round to the coffee-honses near, and pushing open the
doors, gives his well-known bark, as much as to say: «Come and help,
men! come and help!» Bill has not to bark in vain. His call is cheer-
fully obeyed.
In dark nights the lantern has to be lit, when Bill seizes hold of it,
and like a herald, runs on before his master. When the ladder is erected,
Bill is at the top before his active master has reached half w^y! He
jumps into the rooms, and amid thick smoke and the approaching flames,
runs from room to room, helping his master to find and bring out the
poor, inmates.
On one occasion, the fire burned rapidly, and the smoke in the room
became so thick, that Wood and another man were unable to find their
way out. They feared that escape was now hopeless. Bill seemed at once
to understand the danger, in which his kind master was placed, and he
began to bark. Half suffocated, Wood and his comrade knowing this to
be the signal «Follow me», at once crawled after Bill, and in a few mi-
nutes they were led to the window, and thus their lives were saved.
Richly does Bill deserve his silver collar. It bears this inscription :
I am the Fire escape's man dog. My name is Bill.
When «Fire)) is called, I'm never still.
1 bark for my master} all danger I brave,
To bring tlm escape, man's life for to save.
Poor Bill, like human beings, has had his trials and sufferings, as
well as honours. At one fire, he fell through a hole burnt in the floor,
into a tub of scalding water, from which he suffered dreadfully, and
narrowly escaped a painful death. On three other occasions he had the
misfortune to be run over; but, with careful doctoring, he was soon able
to return to his duties *),
Ctuestions.
1. What fine band of men is there in London? — 2. What are the fire-
escapes? — 3 . What is said of Samuel Wood and of his little dog Bill ?
4 Where has Bill to be during the whole of the night, and where does he
sleep during the day? «-
*) This famous dog died in 1861.
— 52 —
5. What is said of Bill's waking his master and knowing the time? —
6. When is Bill promptly at his post, and when does he begin to bark most
furiously? — 7. Why has Wood no occasion to spring his rattle?
8. If the alarm of lire takes place, when but few people are in the streets,
what does Bill do? — 9. Has he to bark in vain?
10. What is Bill's duty in dark nights? — 11. Where is Bill as soon as
the ladder is erected? — 12. What does he then do?
IB. What happened on one occasion, and how did Bill save his master and
the other man?
14. What inscription does Bill's silver collar bear?
15. Describe some of poor Bill's trials and sufferings?
59. Tlie Strictness of Discipliuc Rewarded.
The Empress Catherine being sick, the Czar went to the Fortress to
perform his devotions; but it being midnight he found the gate shut. The
sentinel cried out: «Who goes there?* « The Emperor !» «That is impos-
sible; no one can know him at present, and we have strict orders not to
allow any person whomsoever to come in». Peter at first did not recollect
that this order had been given; he was not, however , displeased with
the refusal of this brave soldier, and secretly congratulated himself, that
discipline was so well attended to. «My friend», said he to the sentinel,
ft it is true that the prohibition does exist, but as sovereign I can revoke
it». «You endeavour in vain to persuade me: you shall not enter». The
monarch was delighted with this perseverance, and asked: «Who gave
you this order?» «My corporal". «Call hira». He came; the Prince, with-
out saying who he was, ordered him to open the gate. «That is impos-
sible; no one can enter, not even the emperor <>. «Who gave that order?*.
«My officer*. «Let him be fetched; the Emperor wants to speak to him*.
The officer of the guard appeared , and Peter desired him also to open
the gate. He ordered the sentinel to hold a lantern to the face of the un-
known , and being convinced of the presence of his master , he suffered
him to pass. The Czar , without speaking ,, went forward , and said his
prayers; on his return from the church he entered the guardhouse, and
announced to the soldier, the corporal, and the officer, whose denial he
had received, that he promoted each of them to a higher rank. tContinue,
my friends » , said he on quitting them, uto observe the same strictness
of discipline, and be assured you will always find me ready to recom-
pense it».
— 53 ~
Questions
1.. Where did the Czar go? — 2. What did the sentinel cry out, and what
•was the answer?— 3. What did the sentinel reply to it? — 4. On what did the
Czar secretly congratulate himself? — 5. What did he say to the sentinel? —
6. What was the sentinel's reply?— 7. Whom did the Prince order to call, and
what did he bid him do ? — 8. To whom did the Emperor want to speak, and
what did he desire him to do? - 9. How did the officer act? — 10, What did
the Czar, on his return from the church, announce to the soldier, the corporal,
and the officer, and what did he say on quitting them ?
60. Thomson and Quin.
Thomson the poet, when he first came to London, was in very nar-
row circumstances, and was very often at a loss, where, or how to pro-
cure himself a dinner. Upon the publication of his Seasons, one of his
creditors had him arrested, thinking that a proper opportunity to get
his money. The report of this misfortune reached the ears of Quin, who
had read the Seasons, but never s€en their author: and he was told that
Thomson was in a Spunging-house in Holborn. Thither Quin went, and
being admitted into his chamber: «Sir», said he, «you do not know me,
but my name is Quin». Thomson said, «that, though he could not boast
of the honour of a personal acquaintance, he was no stranger either to
his name or his merit»; and invited him to sit down. Quin then told him
he was come to sup with him, and that he had already ordered the cook
to provide supper, which he hoped he would excuse. When supper was
over, and the glass had gone briskly about, Mr. Quin told him «it was
now time to enter upon business ». Thomson declared he was ready to
serve him as far as his capacity would reach, in anything he might com-
mand (thinking he was come about some affair relating to the drama).
«Sir», says Quin, «you mistake me. I am in your debt. I owe you a
hundred pounds, and I am come to pay you». Thomson, with a discon-
solate air, replied, that, as he was a gentleman whom he bad never
offended, he wondered he should seek an opportunity to banter with his
misfortune. «No», said Quin, raising his voice: «I say I owe you a hun-
dred pounds, and there it is» (laying a bank note of that amount before
him). Thomson, astonished, begged he would explain himself. «Why»,
says Quin, «I will tell you. Soon after I had read your Seasons, I took
it into my head, that, as I had something to leave behind me when
— 54 —
I died, I wouM make my Avill; and among the rest of my legatees T set
down the author of the Seasons far a hundred pounds; and this dayhear-
ling that you were in this house, I thought I might as well have the
pleasure of paying the money myself, as order my executor to pay it,
when perhaps you might have less need of it; and this, Mr. Thomson,
is my business*. Of course Thomson left the house in company with his
benefactor.
Ctoestions.
1. For what was Thomson often at a loss? — 2. What happened to him
after the publication of his Seasons? — 3. Who went to visit Thomson in
the Spunging- house, and how did he introduce himself? — 4. What was Thom-
son's reply? — 5. What did Quin order? — 6. After supper what did Quin
say? — 7 . What did Thomson reply? — 8 . How much did Qnin say he owed
Thomson? — 9. On Thomson's begging an explanation, what explanation did
Quin give him?
61. The Whistle.
A true story — Written to his Nephew by Dr. Franklin.
When I was a child, at seven years old, my friends on a holiday
filled my pockets Avith coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold
toys for children; and, being charmed with the sound of a whistle, that
I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him
all my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all over the
house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing the whole family.
My brothers, and sisters, and cousins unterstanding the bargain I had
made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth.
This put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest
of the money; and they laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried
with vexation, and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle
gave me pleasure.
This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression conti-
nuing on my mind; so that often Avhen I was tempted to buy some un-
necessary thing, I said to myself, Don'/ give too much for the whistle;
and so I saved my money.
As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men,
I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for
their whistle.
— 55 —
When I saw any one too ambitious of court favours, sacrifiGing his
time in attendance on levees, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and per-
haps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself: This man gives
too much (or his whistle.
When I saw another full of popularity, constantly employing himself
in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that
neglect: He pays indeed^ say I, too much for his whistle.
If I knew a miser who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all
the pleasures of doing good to others, ail the esteem of his fellow citizens,
and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth:
Poor man, say 1, you do indeed pay too much for your whistle.
Whe 1 meet a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improve-
ment of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations: Mis-
taken man, say I, you are providing pain for yourself instead of
pleasure — you give too much for your whistle.
If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipages, all
above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in
prison: Alas! say I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.
When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl, married to an ill-na-
tured brute of a husband: What a pity it is, say I, that she has paid
so muck for a whistle.
In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries of mankind were
brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the' value of
things, and by their giving too much for their whistles.
Questions.
1. When Franklin was a child, what did his friends do? — 2. What did
F— do with the money? — 3. What did his brothers, etc. tell him? — 4. What
did the observation of F — 's brothers, etc. put him in mind of? — 5. Wliat use
did F. derive from the remarks of his brothers, etc.? — 6. What did F— say
to himself when he saw an ambitious man? — 7. And what, when he saw a
man full of popularity? — 8. And what to the miser? And what to the man of
pleasure?
62. A Trait of Lord Byron's Generosity, Humanity,
and Tender-heartedness.
At Ellora, a sea-port very little known to Europeans, situate on the
coast of Barbary, Lord Byron was leaning over the gangway of a vessel,
looking at the sea serpents playing along-side, and enjoying the evening
- 56 —
rays of the sun: these animals are, to all appearance, from six to twelve
feet long, and proportionably large in circumference. While in this situa-
tion, his Lordship's gold watch fell from his jacket-pocket into the sea,,
and was plainly seen at the bottom, although in five fathoms of water.
His Lordship said, *he would not have lost it for ten times its value*.
A sailor immediately undressed, and, diving down, succeeded in bringing
up the watch, though sharks were very numerous round the vessel at the
time, and so very ravenous, that several of them were caught with bait.
Lord Byron was not aware of fhe man's intention, or he never would
have allowed hirii to run such a risk; he offered the man thirty dollars
and a gallon of rum; the sailor said, «He would take the rum to drink
his Lordship's health, but he never would take money for going over-
board in a calm, for the watch of a man who would jump overboard in a
gale of wind, to save a poor fellow's life!» The honest tar recollected the
following noble trait of his Lordship's humanity: The ship had encountered
a severe gale of wind otf Cape Bon, that carried away her maintopmast
in a heavy, deep, high rolling sea. A man stationed at the masthead fell
with the mast, and, holding by one of the ropes floated about 20 fathoms
from the ship's stern. He was hailed to hold fast, and the boat would be
sent for him; the vessel, however, was nearly unmanageable, and the
boat difficult to hoist out, being covered with part of the topmast. The
man got weak, and at last called out that he could hold no longer, but
must let go and submit. Every exertion to get out the boat seemed fruit-
less, when Lord Byron stripped, and, taking a small rope in his hand,
dashed into the waves, then running very high. Just as the poor fellow
was sinking, he caught him by the hair of the head, and fastened the
small rope round his arms; he was then hauled on board, and his life
was saved. His Lordship, being an excellent swimmer, by help of the rope
which the rescued man had hold of, made shift to get along side, and
was taken on board quite exhausted. The exertion threw him into a high
fever, and he was confined to his bed for a week in a doubtful state. The
poor fellow, whose life he had saved, stood sentinel at his cabin door,
wishing he had been drowned rather than anything should have happened
to his preserver; and the vessel exhibited the extraordinary spectacle of
a dejected British crew. Not a word was to be he'ard but in whispers;
and every one offered up prayers for Lord Byron's recovery. When he
became so well as to reappear upon deck, they bailed it as a day of ju-
— 57 —
bilee, and expressed their joy by tliree hearty cheers. The captain ordered
them grog to drink his Lordship's health, and never did the cango merrier
round. Every heart was filled with joy; and at the evening's dance, the
preserved mariner presided, as master of the ceremonies, with grateful
delight sparkling in his eyes.
The heart of Lord Byron was peculiarly tender. When at Genoa, he
was in the practice of going on board the Blossom, sloop of war, without
ceremony, at all hours. One day he climbed up the side, the crew were
all arranged, and Captaiq Stewart was directing the punishment of an of-
fender against discipline. No sooner did the poor fellow's cries, and the
sound of the lash, reach his Lordship's ears, than he tottered to a gun
for support, and was seized with a violent sickness. The lash was sus-
pended, and the officers crowded round, anxious to know the cause.
When a little recovered, he inquired if the man's crime was theft, mutiny
or lying. «Drunkenness!» was the reply. «Then let me beg of you to
pardon him this time». Captain Stewart read the man a lecture, and
complied with his Lordship's request, who privately sent him some mon-
ey, and a message enjoining him sobriety in future. He was several
days affected with this painful circumstance, and said «he would not
have heard the punishment for a thousand pounds «.
Ciuestions.
1. Where was Lord Byron? — 2. What was he doing? — 3. What is the
length of the sea-serpents? — 4. What happened to Lord Byron? — 5. What
did His Lordship say? — 6. What did a sailor do?
7. What did Lord Byron offer the man? — 8. What did the man say? —
9. What had happened to the ship off Cape Bon? — 10. What became of the
man at the mast-head, and what did Lord Byron do? — 11. What were the
consequences to Lord Byron? — 12. What were the poor fellow's thoughts,
and what did the vessel exhibit? — 13. How did the crew, on Lord Byron's
reappearance upon deck, express their joy, and what did the captain order?
— 14. Who presided at the evening's dance, and in w-hat quality?
15. What did Lord Byron find, one day, on arriving on board «the Blos-
som))? — 16. What happened to Lord Byron, when the poor fellow's cries
and the sound of the lash reached his Lordship's ears? — 17. What did he
inquire? — 18. What did he beg of the captain, and what was the consequen-
ce? — 19. What did Lord Byron afterwards do, how did he feel, and what did
he say?
8
- 58 —
63. The Chimney-sweepers' Feast, or the Lost Child Foand,
There was formerly at London, on the first of May of every year, a
superb feast given to the chimney-sweepers of the metropolis, at Mon-
tagu-House, Cavendish-Square, the town residence of the Montagu family.
The custom is said to have taken its origin from the following circum-
stance :
Lady Montagu, being at her country-seat as usual in the summer,
used to send her little boy Edward to walk every day with the foot-
man, who had strict orders never to lose sight of him. One day, however,
the servant, meeting an old acquaintance, went into an alehouse to drink,
and left the little boy running about by himself. After staying some time
drinking, the footman came out to look for the child to take him home
to dinner, but he could not find him. He wandered about till night, en-
quiring at every house, but in vain, no Edward could be found. The
poor mother, as may well be imagined, was in the greatest anxiety
about the absence of her dear boy; but it Avould be impossible to describe
her grief and despair, when the footman returned, and told her he
did not know what had become of him. People were sent to seek him
in all directions; advertisements were put in all the newspapers; bills
were stuck up in London, and in most of the great towns of England,
offering a considerable reward to any person who would bring him, or
give any news of him. All endeavours were, however, unsuccessful, and
it was concluded that the poor child had fallen into some pond, or that
he had been stolen by gipsies, who would not bring him back for fear
of being punished.
Lady Montagu passed two long years in this miserable uncertainty:
she did not return to London as usual in the winter, but passed her time
in grief and solitude in the country. At length one of her sisters married,
and, after many refusals. Lady Montagu consented to give a ball and sup-
per on the occasion at her town-house. She arrived in London to super-
intend the preparations, and while the supper was cooking, the whole
house was alarmed by a cry of, fire!
It appears that one of the cooks had overturned a saucepan, and set
fire to the chimney. The chimney-sweepers were sent fur, and a little
boy was sent up; but the smoke nearly suffocated him, and he fell into
the fire-place. Lady Montagu came herself with some vinegar and a smell-
— 59 -
ing-bottle; she began to balhe his temples and his neck, when suddenly
she screamed ont, Oh! Edward! — and fell senseless on the floor. She
soon recovered, and taking the little sweep in her arms, pressed him to
her bosom, crying: «It is my dear Edward! It is my lost boy»!
It appears she had recognised him by a mark on his neck. The
master-chimney-sweeper, on being asked where he had obtained the
child, said he had bought him about a year before of a gipsy woman,
who said he was her son. All that the boy could remember was, that
some people had given him fruit, and told him they would take him home
to his mamma; but that they took him a long way upon a donkey,
and after keeping him a long while, they told him he must go and live
with the chimney-sweep who was his father: that they had beaten him
so much whenever he spoke of his mamma and of his fine house, that
he was almost afraid to think of it. But he said his master, the chimney-
sweeper, had treated him very well.
Lady Montagu rewarded the man handsomely, and from that time
she gave a feast to all the chimney-sweepers of the Metropolis on the
first of May. the birth-day of little Edward, who always presided at the
table, which was covered with the good old English fare, roast beef,
plum pudding, and strong beer. This circumstance happened many, many
years ago, and Lady Montagu and Edward are both dead; but the first
of May is still celebrated as the chimney-sweepers' holiday, and you may
see them on that day in all parts of London, dressed in ribbons and all
sorts of finery, dancing to music at almost every door, and beating time
with the implements of their trade.
Questions.
1. What was formerly at London? — 2. What used Lady M. to do? — 3.
What did the servant do, and what was the consequence? — 4. How did the
poor mother feel? — 5. What was the result of all the endeavours to find the
boy, and what was concluded? — 6. How did Lady M. pass her time, and how
long? — 7. By what was the house alarmed? — 8. Who were sent for, and
what was the consequence?— 9. What did Lady M. do? — 10. What happen-
ed to Lady M., and what did she do afterwards? — 11. How did she recog-
nise her son? — 12. What did the chimney-sweeper say about the child? —
13 What could the boy remember? — 14. How did LadyM. reward the man?
— 15. What did she always give? — 16. Who presided at the feast, and of
what did it consist? —17. How is the first of May still celebrated in London?
60
64. A Nobleman and his Noble Servant.
A Russian nobleman was travelling in the early part of the winter
over a bleak plain. His carriage rolled up to an inn, and he demanded a
relay of horses to go on. The innkeeper entreated him not to proceed, for
there was danger abroad; the wolves were out. He thought the object of
the man was to keep him as a guest for the night; and saying it was too
early in the season for wolves, ordered the horses to be put to. In spite
of the continued warnings of the landlord, the carriage drove away, with
the nobleman, his wife, and their only daughter.
On the box of the carriage was a serf , who had been born on the
nobleraan's estate, and who loved his master as he loved his life. They
rolled on over the hardened sno^, and there seemed no signs of danger.
The moon began to shed her light, so that the road appeared like polished
silver. At length the little girl said to her father: «What is that strange
dull sound that I just heard* ? Her father replied: «Nothing but the wind
sighing through the trees of the forest we have just passed». The child
shut her eyes, and was quieted for the time; but in a few minutes, with
a face pale with affright , she turned to her father , and said: « Surely,
that was not the wind; I heard it again, did you not hear it too? Listen! »
The nobleman listened , and far , far away in the distance behind him,
but distinct enough in the clear, frosty air, he heard a sound, which he
knew the meaning of, though they did not.
He put down the glass, and speaking to the serf, said: «I think they
are after us; we must make haste; tell the post-boy to drive faster, and
get your musket and pistols ready; I will do the same; we may yet escape »•
The man drove faster; but the mournful howling, which the child had
first heard, began to come nearer and nearer, and it was perfectly clear
to the nobleman that a pack of wolves had got scent, and were in pursuit
of them. Meanwhile he tried to calm the anxious fears of his wife and
child. At last the baying of the pack was distinctly heard, and he said
to his servant: «When they come up with us, single you out the leader,
and fire; I will single out the next, and, as soon as one falls, the rest will
stop to devour him: that will be some delay at least.
By this time they could see the pack fast approaching with their long
measured tread, a large dog-wolf leading. They singled out two, and they
fell; the pack immediately turned on their fallen comrades, and soon tore
— 61 —
them to pieces. The taste of blood made the others advance with more
fury, and they were again soon baying at the carriage. Again the noble-
man and his servant tired, and two more fell, which were instantly de-
voured as before; but the next post-house was still far distant.
The nobleman then cried to the post-boy: «You must let one of the
horses loose from the carriage, iu order that, when the wolves come up
to him, their destruction of the horse may gain us a little time». This
was done, and the horse was left on the road: «in a few minutes they
heard the loud agonizing shriek of the poor animal as the wolves tore him
down. Again they urged on the carriage, but again their enemies were
in full pursuit. A second horse was sent adrift, and shared the same fate
as his fellow.
At length the servant said to his master: «I have served you since I
was a child, and I love you as I love my own life; it is perfectly clear
to me that we cannot all reach the post-house alive; I am quite prepared,
and I ask you to let me die for you». «No)), said the master, «we will
live together, or die together; it must not be son. But the entreaties of
the man at length prevailed. «I shall leave my wife and children to you;
you will be a father to them; you have been a father to me; when the
wolves next reach us , I will jnmp down and do my best I can to arrest
their progress ».
The carriage rolls on as fast as the two remaining horses can drag
it! the wolves are close on their track, and almost dash against the doors
of the carriage. Presently is heard the discharge of the servant's pistols
as he leaps from -his seat. Soon the door of the post-house is reached,
and the family is safe.
They went to the spot the following morning, where the wolves had
pulled the devoted servant to pieces. There now stands a large wooden
cross, erected by the nobleman, with this text upon it: « Greater love has
no man than this, that one lay down his life for his friend ».
Ouestions.
1. When and where was a Russian nobleman travelling? — 2. What did
he demand, when arrived at the inn? — 3. What did the innkeeper entreat
him not to do, and why? — 4. What did the nobleman think, and what followed?
5. Who was on the box of the carriage? — 6. What did the little girl say
to her father? — 7. What did the father reply? — 8. What did the child do, a
few minutes after, and what did she say? — 9. What did the nobleman hear?
— 62 —
10. What did the nobleman then say to the serf?
1 1 . What did the nobleman tell his servant to do , when the baying of thtt
pack was distinctly heard?
12. Describe the shooting of the four wolves?
13. What did the nobleman then cry to the post-boy, and what followed?
14. Mention the words, and describe the death of the devoted servant?
1 5. What words were written on the wooden cross erected by the nobleman
to the memory of his servant?
65. Miss Burney.
Miss Barney, afterwards Madame D'Arblay, wrote her celebrated novel
oi Evelina when only seventeen years of age, and published it without
the knowledge of her father who, having occasion to visit the metropolis,
soon after it had issued from the press, purchased it as the work then
most popular, and most likely to prove an acceptable treat to his family.
When Dr. Burney had concluded his business in town, he went to
Chessington, the seat of Mr. Crisp, where his family were on a visit. He
had scarcely dismounted and entered the parlour, when the customary
question of «What news»? was rapidly addressed to him by the several
personages of the little party. «Nothing», said the worthy doctor, «but
a great deal of noise about a novel which I have brought you».
When the book was produced, and the title read, the surprised and
conscious Miss Burney turned away her face to conceal the blushes and
delighted confusion which otherwise would have betrayed her secret;
but the bustle which usually attends the arrival of a friend in the coun-
try, where the monotonous but peaceful tenor of life is agreeably disturb-
ed by such a change, prevented the curious and happy group from ob-
serving the agitation of their sister.
After dinner, Mr. Crisp proposed that the book should be read. This
was done with all due rapidity; when the gratifying comments made
during its progress, and the acclamations which attended its conclusion,
ratified the approbation of the public. The amiable author, whose anxiety
and pleasure could with difficulty be concealed, was at length overcome
by the delicious feeling of her heart; she burst into tears, and throwing
herself on her father's neck, avowed herself the author of Evelina.
The joy and surprise of her sisters, and still more of her father,
cannot easily be expressed. Dr. Burney, conscious as he was of the ta-
- 63 -
lents of his daughter, never thought that such maturity of observation
and judgment, such fertility of imagination and chasteness of style, could
have been displayed by a girl of seventeen — by one who appeared a
mere infant in artlessness and inexperience, and whose deep seclusion
from Ihe world had excluded her from all visual knowledge of its ways.
Soon after m^, she settled at Rome, and was admitted a member
of the Academy of the Arcadi, under the name of Gorilla Olympica, and
for some time continued to charm the inhabitants of Rome by her talents
in improvisation. At length, when Pius YI became Pope, he determined
that she should be solemnly crowned— an honour which had been grant-
ed to Petrarch only.
Twelve members of the Arcadian Academy were selected out of
thirty, publicly to examine the new edition of the «Tenth Muse», which
has so often been dedicated to ladies of poetical and literary talents.
Three several days were allotted for this public exhibition of poetical
powers, on the following subjects: — sacred history, revealed religion,
moral philosophy, natural history, metaphysics, epic poetry, legislation,
eloquence, mvthology, fine arts, and pastoral poetry.
In the list of examiners appeared a prince, an archbishop, three
monseigneurs, the Pope's physician, abati, avocati, all of high rank in
literature and criticism.' These severally gave her subjects which, be-
sides a readiness Si versification in all the measures of Italian poetry,
required science, reading, and knowledge of every kind.
In these severe trials she acquitted herself to the satisfaction and
astonishment of all the personages, clergy, literati, and foreigners then
resident at Rome. Among the latter was the brother of George III, the
Duke of Gloucester. Nearly fifty sonnets, by different poets, with odes,
canzoni, terze rime, attave, canzonetti, etc., produced on the subject of
the event, are inserted at the end of a beautiful volume containing the
description of the order and ceremonials of this splendid, honourable,
and enthusiastic homage paid to poetry, classical taste, talents, litera-
ture, and the fine arts.
Qtuestions.
1. At what age did Miss Burney publish her Evelina, and without whose
knowledge? — 2. What book did her father purchase, and why?
^ 64 --
3. Where did Dr. Buniey go, when he had concluded his husHiess in
town? — 4. What question was adressedto him, when he had entered the par-
lour, and what was his answer?
5. When the book was produced, what effect had it on Miss Burney, and
what prevented the happy group from observing the agitation of their sister?
6. What did Mr. Crisp propose after dinner, and how was the approb^ation
of the public ratified? — 7. How did the amiable author feel, and what avowal
did she make to her father?
8. What is said of the joy and surprise of her father and sisters?
9. Where did she settle soon after 1774, and of what was she admitted a
member?
10. What did Pius VI determine?
11. Who were selected to examine the new edition of the uTenth Muse»? —
12. On what subjects did this public exhibition take place.
13. Who appeared in the list of examiners, and what did the subjects they
gave her require? — 14. How did she acquit herself in these severe trials?
66. The Generous Cateran.
Early in the la::;t century, John Gunn, a noted. Caterau, or Highland
robber, infested Inverness-shire, up to the walls of the provincial capital.
A garrison was then maintained in the castle of that town; and their pay
was usually transmitted in specie , under the guard of a small escort. It
chanced that the officer who commanded this little party was unexpectedly
oWiged to halt, about thirty miles from Inverness," at a miserable inn.
About night-faU, a stranger, in the Highland dress, and of a very prepos-
sessing appearance , entered the same house. Separate accommodation
being impossible, the Englishman offered the newly-arrived guest a part
of his supper, which was accepted with reluctance. By the conversation
he found his new acquaintance kneAV weH all the passes of the country,
which induced him eagerly to request his company on the ensuing morn-
ing. He neither disguised his business and charge, nor his apprehensions
of that celebrated freebooter , John Gunn. The Highlander hesitated a
moment , and then frankly consented to be his guide. Forth they set in
the morning; and in travelling through a solitary and dreary glen, the
discourse again turned on John Gunn. «Wouldyouliketo see him?» said
his guide; and, without waiting for an answer to this alarming question,
he whistled, and the English officer, with his small party, were surround-
ed by a body of well armed Highlanders whose numbers put resistance
— 65 -
out of question. « Stranger » , resumed the guide , «I am that very John
Gunn by whom you feared to be intercepted, and not without cause; for
I was come to the inn last night with the express purpose of learning your
route, tiiat I and my followers might ease you of your charge by the road.
But I am incapable of betraying the trust you reposed in me, and having
convinced you that you were in my power, I can only dismiss you un-
plundered and uninjured ». He then gave the officer directions for his jour-
ney, and disappeared with his party, as suddenly as they had presented
themselves. (Walter Scott).
Oluestions.
1. What did John Gunn infest? — 2. What was maintained in the castle
of Inverness, and how was the pay of the garrison transmitted? — 3. What
happened to the officer who commanded the little party? — 4. Who entered
the inn at night-fall, and what did the Englishman offer the newly-arrived guest?
— 5. What did the officer find, and whosB company did he requests — 6. Did
the Highlander consent ? -^ 7. What did he say to the English officer, as they
were travelling through a solitary glen, and what followed? — 8. What 'expla-
nation did the guide then give to the stranger, and how did he act afterwards ?
67. Siugular Iiislance of Gcuerosity.
About thirty years ago, Mr. B. having at that time newly commen-
ced business in Edinburgh, was returning on horseback from the city to
a cottage he had near Cramond. It was a wild night in November, and
though he usuaUy took the shortest way home, he resolved, this even-
ing, on account of the increasing darkness, to keep on the high road.
When he had proceeded about three miles from the town, and had come
to the loneliest part of the way, he was suddenly arrested by a man who
sprang out of a small copse at the road side, and seized the bridle of his
horse. Mr. B. was a man of great calmness and resolution, and asked
the man the reason of his behaviour, without betraying the smallest
symptoms of agitation. Not so that assailant. He held the bridle in his
hand, but Mr. B. remarked that it trembled excessively. After remaining
some time, as if irresolute what to do, and without uttering a word, he
let go his hold of the bridle, and said in a trembling voice: «Pass on,
Sir, pass on!» — and then he added: RThank God, I am yet free from
crime*. Mr. B. was struck with the manner and appearance of the man,
9
— 66 —
and said: «I fear you are in distress, is there any thing in which a stran-
ger can assist you?» «Strangers may, perhaps», replied the man in a
bitter tone: for nothing is to be hoped from friends ». « You speak, I hope,
under some momentary feeling of disappointment ». «Pass on, pass on!»
he said impatiently: «1 have no right to utter any complaints to you.
Go home and thank God, that a better spirit withheld me from my first
intention, when I heard you approach — or this might have been» —
he suddenly paused. «Stranger», said Mr. B. in a tone of real kindness:
«you say, you have no right to utter your complaints to me; I have cer-
tainly no right to pry into your concerns, but I am interested, I confess,
by your manner and appearance, and I frankly make you an offer of any
assistance 1 can bestow*. «You know not», replied the stranger, «the
person to whom you make this generous proposal — a wretch stained
with vices — degraded from the station he once held, and on the eve
of becoming a robber — aye», he added with a shudder, «perhaps a
murderer*. I care not, I care not, for your former crimes, — sufficient
for m'e that you repent them — tell me wherein I can stand your friend*.
«For myself I am careless», replied the man; «but there is one who
looks to me with eyes of quiet and still unchanged aifection, though she
knows that I have brought her from a house of comfort to share the fate
of an outcast and a beggar. I wished for her sake once more to become
respectable, to leave a country where I am known, and to gain charac-
ter, station, wealth ~ to all which she is so justly entitled — in a
foreign land; but I have not a shilling in the world ». He here paused,
and Mr. B. thought, he saw him weep. He drew out his pocket book,
and unfolding a bank bill, he put it into the man's hand, and said:
«Here is what 1 hope will ease you from present difficulties, it is a note
for a hundred pounds ». The man started as he received the paper, and
said in a low subdued tone: «I will not attempt to thank you, Sir —
may I ask your name and address? » Mr. B, gave him what he required.
«Fare well, SiD), said the stranger, «when I have expiated my fault,
by a life of honesty and virtue, I will pray for you: till then, I darenot*.
Saying these words, he bounded over the hedge and disappeared. Mr.
B. rode home wondering at the occurrence; and he has often said since,
that he never derived so much pleasure from a hundred pounds in his
life. He related the adventure to several of his friends, but as they were
not all endowed with the same liberality of spirit as himself, he was
— 67 —
rather laughed at for his simplicity; and in the course of a few years,
an increasing and very prosperous business drove the transaction almost
entirely from his mind. One day, however, about twelve years after the
adventure, he was sitting with a few friends after dinner, when a note
was put into his hand, and the servant told him, that the Leith carrier
had brought a hogshead of claret into the hall. He opened the note, and
found it to. contain an order for a hundred pounds, with interest up to
that time, accompanied with the strongest expression of- gratitude for the
service done to the writer long ago. It had no date, but informed him
that he was happy, that he was respected, and that he was admitted
partner in one of the first mercantile houses in the city where he lived.
Every year the same present was continued, always accompanied by a
letter. Mr. B., strange to say, made no great effort to discover his cor-
respondent. At last he died, and the secret of, who the mysterious cor-
respondent might be, seemed in a fair way of dying along with him. But
the story is not yet done. When the funeral of Mr. B. had reached the
Grey-friars church yard, the procession was joined by a gentleman, who
got out of a very elegant carriage at the^door of the church. He was a
tall, handsome man about five and forty years of age, dressed In the
deepest mourning. There were no armoreal bearings on the panels of his
carriage, he was totally unknown to all the family, and after the cere-
mony, during which he appeared to be deeply affected, he went up to
the chief mourner, and said: «I hope. Sir, you- will excuse the intrusion
of a stranger; but I could not refrain from paying the last tribute of re-
spect to an excellent gentleman who was, at one time, more my bene-
factor than any person living ». Saying this he bowed, stepped quickly
into his carriage, and disappeared. There can be no doubt, that this was
the individual, who had been rescued, by the prompt benevolence of
Mr. B. — from sin and misery.
Questions.
1. What was Mr. B. doing about thirty years ago? — 2. Why did he keep
on the high road? — 3 . What happened when he had come to the loneliest
part of the way? — 4. What did Mr. B — ask the man, and what did the lat-
ter say? — 5. What did Mr. B — then say, and what w^as the man's reply? —
6. Give a further account of their conversation? — 7. On receiving the bank
note from Mr. B— ; what did the man say and do? — 8. What were Mr. B's
feelings with regard to the hnndred pounds? — 9. What happened one day,
— 68 —
when Mr. B. was sitting with a few friends after dinner? — 10. What was
every year continued? — 11. Describe the appearance of the gentleman who
joined the funeral procession? — 12. "What did he do and say after the cere-
mony ?
68. Bradford the Innkeeper.
Jonathan Bradford kept an inn in Oxfordshire , on the London road
to Oxford. He bore a respectable character. Mr. Hayes, a gentleman of
fortune , being on his way to Oxford on a visit to a relation, put up at
Bradford's. He there joined company with two gentlemen, with whom he
supped, and in conversation unguardedly mentioned that he had then about
him a considerable sum of money. In due time they retired to their re-
spective chambers; the gentlemen to a two-bedded room , leaving, as is
customary with many, a candle burning in the chimney corner. Some
hours after they were in bed, one of the gentlemen being awake, thought
he heard a deep groan in an adjoining chamber; and this being repeated,
he softly awoke his friend. They listened together, and the groans increas-
ing, as of one dying and in pain, they both instantly arose, and pro-
ceeded silently to the door of the next chamber , from which the groans
had seemed to come. The door being ajar, they saw a light in the room.
They entered, but it is impossible to paint their consternation on perceiv-
ing a person weltering in- his blood in the bed, and a man standing over
him with a dark lantern in one hand, and a knife in the other! The man
seemed as much petrified as themselves , but his terror carried with it
all the appearance of guilt. The gentlemen soon discovered that the mur-
dered person was the stranger , with whom they had that night supped,
and that the man, who was standing over him, was their host. They seiz-
ed Bradford directly, disarmed him of his knife, and charged him with
being the murderer. He assumed by this time the air of innocence, posi-
tively denied the crime , and asserted that he came there with the same
humane intentions as themselves; for that , hearing a noise , which was
succeeded by a groaning, he got out of bed, struck a light, armed him-
self with a knife for his defence , and had but (hat minute entered the
room before them. These assertions were of little avail: he was kept in
close custody till the morning , and then taken before a neighbouring
justice of the peace. Bradford still denied the murder , but with such
— 69 —
apparent indications of guilt , that the justice hesitated not to make use
of this extraordinary expression, on writing his mittimus, «Mr. Bradford,
either you or myself committed this murder ».
This remarkable affair became a topic of conversation to the whole
country. Bradford was condemned by the general voice of every company.
Ill the midst of all this predetermination, came on the assizes at Oxford.
Bradford was brought to trial; he pleaded not guilty. Nothing could be
stronger than the evidence of the two gentlemen. They testified to the
finding Mr. Hayes murdered in his bed, Bradford at the side of the body
with a light and a knife , and that knife , and the hand whicli held it ,
bloody. They stated that, on their entering the room, he betrayed all the
signs of a guilty man; and that, but a few minutes preceding, they had
heard the groans of the deceased.
Bradford's defence on his trial was the same as before: he had heard
a noise; he suspected that some villainy was transacting; he struck a light,
snatched up the knife, the only weapon at hand, to defend himself, and
entered the room of the deceased. He averred that the terrors he betrayed
were merely the feelings natural to innocence , as well as guilt , on be-
holding so horrid a scene. The defence, however, could not but be con-
sidered as weak, contrasted with the several powerful circumstances
against him. Never was circumstancial evidence so strong, so far as it
went. There was little need for comment from the judge in summing up
the evidence, no room appeared for extenuation; and the prisoner was
declared guilty by the jury, without their even leaving the box.
Bradford was executed shortly after, still declaring that he was not
the murderer, nor privy to the murder, of Mr. Hayes; but he died, dis-
believed by all.
Yet were these assertions not untrue! The murder was actually com-
mitted by the footman of Mr. Hayes ; and the assassin , immediately on
stabbing his master, rifled his pockets of his money , gold watch , and
snuff-box , and then escaped back to his own room. This could scarcely
have been effected, as after-circumstances showed, more than two seconds
before Bradford's entering the unfortunate gentleman's chamber. The world
owed this information to remorse of conscience on the part of the footman
(eighteen monhts after the execution of Bradford) , when laid on a bed
of sickness. It was a death bed repentance , and by that death the law
lost its victim.
_ 70 —
It were to be wished that this account could close here, but there is
more to be told. Bradford, though innocent of the murder, and not even
privy to it , was nevertheless a murderer in design. He had heard , as
well as the footman , what Mr. Hayes had declared at supper , having a
sum of money about him ; and he went to the chamber of the deceased
with the same intentions as the servant. He was struck with amazement
on beholding himself anticipated in the crime. He could not believe his
senses; and in turning back the bed clothes to assure himself of the fact,
he in his agitation dropped his knife on the bleeding body , by which
means both his hands and the weapon became bloody. These circumstan-
ces Bradford acknowledged to the clergyman who attended him after sen-
tence, but who, it is extremely probable, would not believe them at the
time.
Besides the graver lesson to be drawn from this extraordinary case,
in which we behold the simple intention of crime so signally and won-
derfully punished , these events furnish a striking warning against the
careless , and , it may be , vain display of money or other property in
strange places.. To heedlessness on this score the unfortunate Mr. Hayes
fell a victim. The temptation , we have seen , proved tt)0 strong for two
persons out of the few who heard his ill timed disclosure.
Questions.
I. Where did Jonathan Bradford keep an inn, and what character did he
bear? — 2. What is said of Mr. Hayes? — 3. What did the two gentlemen
do on hearing the groans in the abjoining chamber ? — 4. What did they per-
ceive on entering the chamber? — 5. What is said of the man with the dark
lantern and the knife? — 6. What did the gentlemen discover, and what fol-
lowed?
7. When the assizes at Oxford came on, what did the two gentlemen testify
and state ?
8. What is said of Bradford's defence on his trial, and what was he decla-
red by the jury ?
9. By whom was the murder actually committed, and to what circumstance
did the world owe this information ?
10. In what sense' was Bradford nevertheless a murderer, and what circum-
stances did he acknowledge to the clergyman who attended him after sentence?
II. What lesson may be drawn- from this extraordinary case , and what
warning do these events furnish ?
- 71 —
69. Fingai outwitting the Scotch Giant.
Fingal was a giant, and no fool of one, and any one that affronted
him was sure of a beating. But there was a giant in Scotland as tall as
the mainmast, more or less, as we say when we a'n't quite sure. This
Scotch giant heard of Fingal, and how he had beaten every body, and
he said: «Who is this Fingal? I'll just walk over and see what he's
made of». So he walked across the Irish channel, and landed within
half a mile of Belfast, and I suspect that he was not dry-footed.
When Fingal heard that this great chap was coming over, he was in a
devil of a fright, for they told him that the Scotchman was taller by a few
feet or so. So Fingal kept a sharp look-out for the Scotchman, and one fine
morning, there he was, sure enough, coming up the hill to Fingal's house.
If Fingal was afraid before, he had more reason to be afraid, when he saw
the fellow; for he looked for all the world like the Monument '') upon a
voyage of discovery. So Fingal ran into his house, and called to his wife
Shaya, «myvourneen *'')», says he, « be quick now; there's that big bully
of a Scotchman coming up the hill. Cover me up with the blankets, and
if he asks who is in bed, tell him it's the child ». So Fingal lay down
on the bed, and his wife had just time to cover him up, when in comes
the Scothman, and though he stooped low, he broke his head against the
portal. « Where's Fingal?)) says he, rubbing his forehead; show him to
me, that I may give him a beating ». «Whist, whist » ! cries Shaya,
«you'll wake the baby, and then him that you talk of beating will be the
death of you, if he comes in». «Is that the baby?» cried de Scotchman
with surprise, looking at the great carcass muffled up in the blankets.
tSure it is», replied Shaya, «and Fingal's baby too; so don't you wake
him, or Fingal will twist your neck in a minute ». «By the cross of St.
Andrew* , replied the giant, then it's time for me to be off; for if that's
his baby, I'll be but a mouthful to the fellow himself. Good morning to
ye». So the Scotch giant ran out of the house, and never stopped to eat
or drink until he got back to his own hills; foreby he was nearly drown-
ed in having mistaken his passage across the Channel in his great
hurry. Then Fingal got up and laughed, as well as he might, at his own
acuteness; and so ends my story about Fingal. (Marryat).
*) 3;^'fecb ^o;^pa3yM'feBaeTCfl MOHyMeHTTj, BOSflBHrHyTbift bT) JIoh;^oh'6 bt. na-
MHTt BejHKaro noatapa BTb 1666 roAy.
<Hf-) ]y[y voui'neen ilih mavourneen (no npJaH;^CKH), moh BoajuoQjeHHaa!
72 —
Questions.
1. What is said about Fingal? — 2. How tall was the Scotch giant? —
3. "What did he hear of Fingal, and what did he say? — 4. Which channel
did he walk across, and where did he land?
5. When Fingal heard that this great chap was coming over, what did he
feel? — 6. What did he then do, and what happened? — 7. How did the Scotch
feUow look? — 8. What did Fingal say to his wife Shaya? — 9. What did the
Scotchman say on coming in? — 10. What was Shaya's answer? — 11. What
did the Scotchman say to this, and what did Shaya reply? — 12. What did the
giant then say and do? — 13. What did Fingal do, after the Scoth giant had
gone? .
70. The Adventure of My Aunt.
My aunt was a lady of large frame, strong mind, and great resolu-
tioo; she was what might be termed a very manly woman. My uncle was
a thin, puny, little man, very meek and acquiescent; it was observed
that he dwindled and dwindled gradually away, from the day of his
marriage. My aunt, however, took all possible care of him; all was in
vain. BIy uncle grew worse and worse the more dosing and nursing he
underwent, until in the end he added another to the long list of matri-
monial victims who have been killed with kindness. My aunt took on
mightily for the death of her poor dear husband. Perhaps she felt more
compunction at having given him so much physic and nursed him into
his grave. At any rate, she did aU that a widow could do to honour his
memory. She spared no expense in either the quantity or quality of her
mourning weeds: she wore a miniature of him about her neck as large
as a little sundial; and she had a full-length-portrait of him always hang-
ing in her bedchamber. All the world extolled her conduct to the skies;
and it was determined that a woman, who behaved so weH to the me-
mory of one husband, deserved soon to get another. It was not long after
this that she went to take up her residence in an old country-seat in
Derbyshire, which had long been in the care of merely a steward and a
housekeeper. She took most of her servants with her, intending to make
it her principal abode. The house stood in a lonely, wild part of the
country, among the gray Derbyshire hiUs, with a murderer hanging in
chains on a bleak height in full view. The servants' from town were half
— 73 —
frightened out of their wits at the idea of living in such a dismal pagan -
looking place, especially when they got together in the servants' hall in
the evening, and compared notes on all the hobgoblin stories they had
picked up in the course of the day. They were afraid to venture alone
about the gloomy, black-looking chambers. My aunt herself seemed to
be struck with the lonely appearance of the house. Before she went to
bed, therefore, she examined well the fastnesses of the doors and win-
dows, locked up the plate with her own hands, and carried the keys,
together with a little box of money and jewels, to her own room; for she
was a notable woman, and always saw to all things herself. Having put
the keys under her pillow, and dismissed her maid, she sat by her toilet,
arranging her hair; when all of a sudden she thought she heard some-
thing move behind her. — She looked hastily round, but there was no-
thing to be seen, nothing but the grimly painted portrait of her poor dear
man, which had been hung against the wall. She gave a heavy sigh to
his memory, as she was accustomed to do, whenever she spoke of him
in company, and then went on adjusting her night-dress. Her sigh was
re-echoed, or answered by a long-drawn breath. She looked round again,
but no one was to be seen. She ascribed these sounds to the wind oozing
through the rat-holes of the old mansion, and proceeded leisurely to put
her hair in papers, when, all at once, she thought she perceived one of
the eyes of the portrait move .
So strange a circumstance, as you may well suppose, gave her a
sudden shock. To assure herself of the fact, she put one hand to her
forehead as if rubbing it; peeped through her fingers, and moved the
candle with the other hand. The light of the taper gleamed on the eye,
and was reflected from it. She was sure it moved. Nay more, it seemed
to give her a wink, as she had sometimes known her husband to do when
living. It struck a momentary chill to her heart; for she was a lone wo-
man, and felt herself fearfully situated.
The chill was but transient. My aunt became instantly calm and col-
lected; she went on adjusting her dress. She even hummed an air, and
did not make a single false note. She casually overturned a dressing box,
took a candle, and picked up the articles one by one from the floor, pur-
sued a rolling pincushion that was making the best of its way under the
bed, then opened the door, looked for an instant into the corridor, as if
in doubt whether to go, and then walked quietly out. She hastened down
10
_ u -
stairs, ordered the servants to arm themselves with the weapons that
first came to hand, placed herself at their head, and returned almost im-
mediately. Her hastily levied army presented a formidable force. The
steward had a rusty blunderbuss, the coachman a loaded whip, the foot-
man a pair of horse-pistols, the cook a huge chopping-knife, and the
butler a bottle in each hand. My aunt led the van with a red-hot poker,
and, in my opinion, she was. the most formidable of the party. The
waitiug-maid, who dreaded to stay alone in the servants' hall, brought
up the rear, smelling to a bottle of volatile salts, and expressing her
terror of the ghosts.
« Ghosts !» said my aunt rosolutely. «ru singe their whiskers for
them ! »
They entered the chamber. All was still and undisturbed as when
she had left it. They approached the portrait of my uncle. «Pull me down
that picture! » cried my aunt. A heavy groan, and a sound like the chat-
tering of teeth, issued from the portrait. The servants shrunk back; the
maid uttered a faint shriek, and clung to the footman for support.
«Instantly!» added my aunt, with a stamp of the foot. The picture
was pulled down, and from a recess behind it, in which had formerly
stood a clock, they hauled forth a round shouldered, black-bearded var-
let, with a knife as long as my arm, but tremblimg all over like an aspen
leaf. The vagabond was a loose idle fellow of the neighbourhood, who
had once been a servant in the house, and had been employed to assist
in arranging it for the reception of its mistress He confessed that he had
stolen into her chamber to violate her purse, and rifle her strong box,
when all the house should be asleep. He had contrived his hiding-place
for his nefarious purposes, and had borrowed an eye from the portrait
by way of a reconnoitring hole.
My aunt was a woman of spirit, and apt to take the law in her own
hands. She had her own notions of cleanliness also. She ordered the
fellow to be drawn through the horsepond, to cleanse away all offences,
and then to be well rubbed down with an oaken towel.
Questions.
1. Describe my aunt? — 2. Give a description of my uncle and his illness?
— 3. What is said of my aunt's conduct after her husband's death? — 4. Where
did she go to take up her residence'^ — 5. Where did the house stand? — 6.
- 75 -
What did the servants do in the evening? — 7 . What did my aunt do before
she went to bed? — 8. What did she think she heard? — 9. What followed?
— 10. What did she do to assure herself of the fact, and what was the result?
— 11. When my aunt had become calm and collected, what did she do? —
12. Describe her hastily collected army?
13. When the waiting-maid expressed her terror of the ghosts, what did
my aunt say?
14. What did my aunt cry oh approaching my uncle's picture, and what
followed?
15. Who was hauled forth from a recess behind the picture? — 16. Who
was the vagabond, and what did he confess?
17. What punishment did ray aunt assign to the varlet?
71. James V travelling in Disguise.
James V, Kiug of Scotland, had a custom of going about the country
disguised as a private person, in order that he might hear complaints
which might not otherwise reach his ears, and, perhaps, that he might
enjoy amusements which he could not have partaken of in his avowed
royal character.
Upon such an occasion King James fell into a quarrel with some gip-
sies, or rather vagrants, and was assaulted by four or five of them. This
chanced to he very near the Bridge of Cramond; so the King got on the
Bridge which, as it was high and narrow, enabled him to defend himself
with his sword against the number of persons by whom he was attacked.
There was a poor man thrashing corn in a barn near by, who came out
on hearing the noise of the scuffle, and seeing one man defending himself
against numbers, gallantly took his part with his flail to such purpose,
that the gipsies were obliged to flee. The husbandman then took the King
into the barn, brought him a towel and water to wash the blood from
his face and hands, and finally walked with him a little way towards
Edinburgh, in case he should he again attacked. On the way, the, King
asked his companion what and who he was. The labourer answered that
his name was John Howieson, and that he was a bondsman on the farm
of Braehead, near Cramond, which belonged to the King of Scotland.
James then asked the poor man, if there was any wish in the world,
which he would particularly desire to see gratified; and honest John
confessed, he should think himself the happiest man in Scotland, were
— 76 —
he hut proprietor of the farm on which he wrought as a lahourer. He
then asked the King, in return, who he was; and James replied, as usual,
that he was the Goodman of Ballengiech, a poor man, who had a small
appointment about the palace; but he added, that if JohnHowieson would
come to see him on the next Sunday, he would endeavour to repay his
manly assistance, and, at least, give him the pleasure of seeing the royal
apartments.
John. put on his best clothes, and appearing at a postern gate of the,
palace, inquired for the Goodman of Ballengiech. The King had given
orders that he should be admitted; and John found his friend, the Good-
man, in the same disguise which he had formerly worn. The King, still
preserving the character of an inferior officer of the household, conducted
John Howieson from one apartment of the palace to another, and was
amused with his wonder and his remarks At length he asked him if he
should like to see the King; to which John replied, nothing would delight
him so much, if he could do so without giving offence. The Goodman of
Ballengiech, of course, undertook that the King would not be offended.
«But», said John, «how am I to know his Grace from the nobles who
will be about him?» — « Easily », replied his companion; call the others
will be bare-headed — the King alone will wear his hat or bonnet.*
So speaking, King James introduced the countryman into a great hall
which was filled by the nobility and officers of the crown. John was a
little frightened, and drew close to his attendant, but was still unable to
distinguish the King. «I told you that you should know him by his wear-
ing his hat», said his conductor. «Then», said John, after he had again
looked around the room, «it must be either you or me, for all but us two
are bare-headed. »
The King laughed at John's fancy; and, that the good yeoman might
have occasion for mirth also, he made him a present of the farm of Brae-
head, on condition that John Howieson, or his successors, should be
ready to present a ewer, and basin for the King to wash his hands, when
his Majesty should come to Holyrood palace, or should pass the Bridge
of Cramond. Accordingly, in the year 1822, when George IV came to
Scotland, the descendant of John Howieson of Braehead, who still pos-
sesses the estate which was given to his ancestor, appeared at a solemn
festival, and offered his Majesty water from a silver ewer, that he might
perform the service by which he held his lands. (Walter Scott).
77 —
(Hu estions.
1. What was James V accustomed to do, and for what purpose?
2. By whom was King James assaulted? — 3. Where did this happen, and
how was the King enabled to defend himself? — 4. Who took the King's part,
and what was the conseqnence? — 5.- Where did the husbandman then take
the King, and what else did he do? — 6, What question did James V put to
his companion? — 7. What was the labourer's answer? — 8. What did James
then ask the poor man, and what did honest John confess? — 9. What did the
latter ask the King, in return, and what was James's reply?
10. For whom did John inquice on the next Sunday? — 11. What orders
had the King given, and in what disguise did John find his friend? — 12. What
did the King then do, and with what was he amused? — 13. What did the
King ask John, and what was the answer? — 14. What did John then «ay? —
15. What did his companion reply?
16. Where did King James introduce the countryman? — 17. What did
the King then say, and what answer did John give?
18. What present did the King make the yeoman, and on what condition?
— 19. What happened in the year 1822?
72. James Grichton,
Among the favourites of nature, that have from time to time appeared
in the world, none seems to have been more exalted above the common
rate of humanity, than the man known by the appellation of the Admir-
able Crichton; whatever we may suppress of his history as surpassing
credibility, yet we shall relate enough to rank him among prodigies.
«Virtue», says Virgil, «is better accepted when it comes in a pleasing
form»; but his beauty was consistent with such activity and strength,
that in fencing he would spring at one bound the length of twenty feet
upon his antagonist; and he used the sword in either hand with such
force and dexterity, that scarce any one had courage to engage him.
Having studied at St. Andrew's in Scotland, he went to Paris in his
twenty-first year, and affixed on the gate of the college of Navarre a kind
of challenge to the learned of that university to dispute with him on a
certain day, offering to his opponents, whoever they should be, the
choice of ten languages, and of _all the sciences. On the day appointed
three thousand auditors assembled, four doctors of the church and fifty
mast^ers appeared against him; and one of his antagonists confesses that
_ 7S -~-
the doctors were defeated, that he gave proofs of knowledge above the
reach of man, and that a hundred years, passed without food or sleep,
would not be sufficient for the attainment of his learning. After a dispu-
tation of nine hDurs, he was presented by the president and professors
with a diamond and a purse of gold, and dismissed with repeated ac-
clamations.
From Paris he went to Rome, where he made the same challenge,
and had in the presence of the Pope and cardinals the same success. He
then visited Padua, where he engaged in another public disputation,
beginning his performance with an extemporal poem in praise of the city
and the assembly then present, and concluding with an oration equally
unpremeditated in commendation of ignorance.
Besides these stupendous acquisitions of learning, Crichton practised
in great perfection the arts of drawing and painting; he was an eminent
performer in both vocal and instrumental music; he danced with uncom-
mon gracefulness, and on the day after his disputation at Paris exhibit-
ed his skill in horsemanship before the court of France, where at a pub-
lic match of tilting, he bore away the ring upon his lance fifteen times
together.
He excelled likewise in games of less dignity and reputation : in
the interval of his challenge and disputation at Paris, lie spent so much
of his time at cards, dice, and tennis, that a lampoon was fixed upon
the gate of the Sorbonne, directing those who would see this monster
of erudition, to look for him at the tavern.
So extensive was his acquaintance with life and manners, that in an
Italian comedy composed by himself, and exhibited before the court of
Mantua, he is said to have acted fifteen different characters. He had such
power of memory, that once hearing an oration of an hour, he would
repeat it exactly, and in the recital follow the speaker through all his
variety of tone and gesticulation.
Nor was his skill in arms less than in learning, or his courage in-
ferior to his skill. There was a prize-fighter at Mantua, who travelled
about the world, according to the barbarous custom of that age, as a gen-
eral challenger, and had defeated the most celebrated masters in many
parts of Europe. In Mantua where he then resided, he had killed three
that appeared against him. The Duke repented that he had granted him
protection; when Crichton, looking on his sanguinary success with indig-
— 79 -
nation, offered to stake fifteen hundred pistoles , and mount the stage
against him. The Duke with some reluctance consented, and on the day
fixed the combatants appeared: their weapon seems to have been the ra-
pier which was then newly introduced into Italy. The prize-fighter ad-
vanced with great violence end fierceness, and Crichton contented him-
self calmly to ward his passes, and suffered him to exhaust his vigour
by his own fury. Crichton then became the assailant, and pressed upon
him with such force and agility, that he thrust him thrice through the
body, and saw him expire: he then divided the prize he had won among
the widows whose husbands had been killed,
The Duke of Mantua having received so many proofs of his various
merits, made him tutor to his son Vincentio of Gouzaga, a prince of
loose manners and turbulent disposition!. But his honour was of short
continuance: for as he was one night, in the time of carnival, rambling
about the streets, with his guitar in his hand, he was attacked by six
men masked. Neither his courage nor his skill in this exigence deserted
him: he opposed them with such activity and spirit, that he soon disper-
sed them, and disarmed their leader who, throwing off his mask, disco-
vered himself to be the Prince, his pupil. Crichton, falling on his knees,
took his own sword by the point, and presented it to the Prince who
immediately seized it, and instigated, as some say, by jealousy, accord-
ing to others only by drunken fury and brutal resentment, thrust him
through the heart.
Thus was the Admirable Crichton brought into that state, in which
he could excel the meanest of mankind only by a few empty honours
paid to his memory: the Court of Mantua testified their esteem by a pub-
lic mourning, the contemporary wits were profuse of their encomiums,
and the palaces of Italy were adorned with pictures, representing him
on horseback, with a lance in one hand, and a book in the other.
(Samuel Johnson).
Clnestions.
1. What is said about the Admirable Crichton, and his history?
2. What does Virgil say? — 3. Give a description of Crichton's beauty,
strength, and dexterity?
4. Where did he go in his twenty-first year, and what did he affix on the
gate of the college of Navarre? — 5. How many auditors assembled, and who
appeared against Crichton^ — 6. What does one of his antagonists confess?—
— 80 —
7. With what was Crichton presented after the disputation, and how was he
dismissed?
8. What is mentioned about Crichton's residence at Rome? — 9. Stat« his
performances at Padua?
10. Mention Crichton's attainments in drawing, painting, music, dancing,
and horsemanship?
11. What is stated about his excellence in games of less dignity?
12. Give proofs of his extensive acquaintance with life and manners, and
of his power of memory?
13. What do we read of the prize-fighter at Mantua, and how many pistoles
did Crichton offer to stake? — 14. Describe Crichton's combat with the prize-
fighter, and his generous conduct to the widows whose husbands had been killed?
15. To what place was Crichton appointed by the Duke of Mantua?. —
16. Describe the unfortunate death of Crichton? '
17. How did the court of Mantua and the public honour the memory of
the Admirable Crichton?
73. Sir Sidney Smith's Escape.
Sir Sidney Smith, who was charged by Admiral Hood with the duty
of burning the French fleet at Toulon, in i793, fell into the hands of the
French two years' later , and was treated with considerable severity as a
prisoner of war. Confined in the Temple, that gloomy prison in Paris, in
which the unfortunate Louis the Sixteenth and Marie Antoinette spent
their last days, the unwholesome closeness of his dungeon brought onau
illness which for a time threatened to put an end to his career. In this con-
dition , prompted by the impulses of his own generous nature , he wrote
a letter to Napoleon Bonaparte , imploring him to order that he , a dying
prisoner , might be allowed to breathe the air beyond his-prison walls.
No answer was returned to this request; but Sir Sidney soon after revi-
ving, a plan was successfully devised , by which he effected his escape.
A friend had provided him with a false passport, a sword, a pistol,
and a loose great-coat; and thus provided, sleeping by night in obscure
road- side cabarets, and by day proceeding cautiously by bye-roads, he
made his way through Normandy. Following the windings of the Seine,
and avoiding Rouen and other great citios , he finally got to the coast in
the neighbourhood of Havre. This was a dangerous spot, for it was here
- 81 —
that he had been captured , and consequently his person was known to
the authorities; but he was aware that a number of British ships of war
were blockading that port, and if he could only communicate with these,
he knew that his escape would be easy. Having secreted himself in a little
town at a considerable distance from the coast, he walked to the sea shore,
where he arrived in the dusk of the evening and here, at length, he was
so fortunate as to find a solitary fisherman in charge of several boats.
Sir Sidney , who had spoken French from a child with the fluency of a
native, told the man that he had a particular reason for wishing to visit
one of the English ships lying off the harbour, and that he would give a
handsome reward to be conveyed aboard. The poor fisherman consented
on condition that the stranger would wait till it was later, and meanwhile
invited him to his cottage to take rest before starting. Sir Sidney accepted
his offer , and followed him to a cottage , where a poor old woman , the
fisherman's wife, spread a cloth and laid before th6m a good supper. But
their guest was too unwell to eat, and was not unnaturally anxious lest
the man should only have asked for delay in order to betray him. He was
now, however, in their power, and it was useless to hesitate; so he
merely asked for leave to lie down and sleep until the time to depart had
arrived. The woman accordingly gave him a clean mattress in the room
in which they sat; and here, worn out with a long day's walk, he wrap-
ped himself in his cloak and slept.
At the appointed hour the fisherman awoke his guest, and bade him
follow him. Sir Sidney started from his place and obeyed , and with a
joyful heart stepped into the boat which lay waiting for them in a little
cove. Feeling himself once more upon his native element, after so many
wanderings , the gallant sailor drew his cloak around him with an invo-
luntary gesture of satisfaction, which the man observed, but mistook its
meaning. To Sir Sidney's surprise , he laid his hand upon his shoulder,
and said, «Do not hide yourself, Sir, from me; for I have known you
all along». Sir Sidney was scarcely alarmed by this speech; for they were
alone , and he was armed. «If you indeed know me» , he said calmly,
« who -am I?» «You are Commodore Smith », replied the man; «you more
than once gave me a glass of spirits with your own hands, when I have
come in my boat, the Diamond, on wet nights, to sell fish to your crew;
and I should be a scoundrel if I betrayed you».
In telling this anecdote to a friend , long afterwards , Sir Sidney re-
11
— 82 —
marked, «You see by this occurrence that no man can be aware how the
most apparently trifling events may influence his future safety, nor how
humble may be the individual who may have his life or liberty in his
hands. And thus, my friend, Almighty Providence appears to weave to-
gether all his creatures in a mutual kindly dependence, so that none may
say, 'I can have no need of you?'» The little fishing -boat conveyed its
freight safely to the side of a British man-of-war , the «Argo» frigate,
which joyfully took him aboard, and without loss of time brought him to
England, where the return from his perilous adventures, of this great
favourite of the people, was welcomed with almost a national rejoicing.
(The Temple Anecdotes).
duestions.
1. Into whose hands did Sir Sidney Smith fall, and how was he treated? . —
2. Where was he confined, and what was the consequence?— 3. What did Sir
Sidney do, and what followed?
4. With what had a friend provided him, and how did he proceed through
Normandy?— 5. Was he safe in the neighbourhood of Havre? — 6. What did
he tell the fisherman, and what condition did the latter make? — 7. How was
Sir Sidney treated at the fisherman's cottage?
8. How did Sir Sidney feel in the boat, and what did he do?— 9. Give an
account of Sir Sidney's conversation with the fisherman?
10. In telling this anecdote, what did Sir Sidney remark? — 11. Where
did the boat convey Sir Sidney, and was his return welcomed in England?
74. A Uangei'ous Journey in Labrador.
Samuel Liebisch was required by the duties of his office, to visit
Okkak, the most northern of the settlements, and about one hundred and
fifty English miles distant from Nain, the place where he resided. Ano-
ther European, named Turner, being appointed to accompany him, they
left Nain on March Uth, 1782, early in the morning with very clear
weather, the stars shining with uncommon lustre. — The sledge drawn
by dogs, in which the brethren travelled, was driven by the baptized
Esquimaux, Mark; and another sledge carrying some heathen Esquimaux
joined company.
The two sledges contained five men, one woman, and a child. AU
were in good spirits, and appearances being much in their favour, they
- 83 —
hoped to reach Okkak in safety, in two or three days. The track over
the frozen sea was in the best possible order, and they went with ease
at the rate of six or seven miles an hour. After they had passed the is-
lands in the bay of Nain, they kept at a sonsiderable distance from the
coast, both to gain the smoothest part of the ice, and to weather the high
rocky promontory of Kiglapeit. About eight o'clock they met a sledge
with Esqimaux, turning in from the sea. After the usual salutations, the Es-
quimaux alighting, held some conversations, as is their general practice,
the result of which was, that some hints were thrown out by the strange
Esquimaux, that it might be as well to return.— However, as the Mission-
aries saw no reason whatever for it, and only suspected that the Es-
quimaux wished to enjoy the company of their friends a little longer,
they proceeded. — After some time, their own Esquimaux hinted that
there was a ground swell under the ice. It was then hardly perceptible,
except on lying down and applying the ear close to the ice, when a hol-
low disagreeable, grating and roaring noise was heard, as if ascending
from the abyss. The weather remained clear, except towards the east,
where a bank of light clouds appeared, interspersed with some dark
streaks. But the wind being strong from the north west, nothing less than
a sudden change of weather was expected.
The sun had now reached its height, and there was as yet little or
no alteration in the appearance of the sky. But the motion of the sea
under the ice had grown more perceptible, so as rather to alarm the
travellers, and they began to think it prudent to keep closer to the shore.
The ice had cracks and large tissures in many places, some of which
formed chasms of one or two feet wide; but as they are not uncommon,
even in its best state, and the dogs easily leap over them, the sledge
following without danger, they are only terrible to new comers, inexpe-
rienced in the peculiarities of Labrador travelling.
As soon as the sun declined towards the west, the wind increased,
and rose to a storm, the bank of clouds from (he east began to ascend,
and the dark streaks lo put themselves in motion against the wind. The
snow was violently driven about, by partial whirlwinds both on the ice,
and from of the peaks of the high mountains, and filled the air. At the
same time the ground swell had increased so much, that its effect upon
the ice became very extraordinary and alarming. The sledges, instead of
gliding along smoothly, upon an even surface, sometimes ran with vio-
- 84 —
leBce after the dogs, and shortly after seemed with difficulty to ascend
the rising hill; for the elasticity of so vast a body of ice, of many
leagues square, supported by a troubled sea, though in some places three
or four yards in thickness, would, in some degree, occasion an undula-
tory motion, not uolike that of a sheet of paper, accommodating itself to
the surface of a rippling stream. Noises were likewise distinctly heard
in many directions, like the report of a cannon, owing to the bursting of
the ice at some distance.
The Esquimaux, therefore, drove with all haste towards the shore,
intending to take up their night quarters on the south side of Uivak, But,
as it plainly appeared that the ice would break and disperse in the open
sea, Mark advised to push forward to the North of Uivak, from whence
he hoped the track to Okkak might still remain entire. To this proposal
the company agreed; but when the sledges approached the coast, the pro-
spect before them was truly terrific. The ice having broken loose from
the rocks, was forced up and down, grinding and breaking into a thou-
sand pieces against the precipices with a tremendous noise which, added
to the raging of the wind and the snow driving about in the air, deprived
the travellers almost of the power of hearing and seeing any thing dis-
tinctly. To make the land at any risk, was now the only hope left, but
it was with the utmost difficulty the frightened dogs could be forced for-
ward, the whole body of ice sinking frequently below the surface of the
rocks, and then rising above it. As the only moment to land was that,
when it gained the level of the coast, the attempt was extremely nice and
hazardous. However, providentially, it succeeded: both sledges gained
the shore, and were drawn up the beach with much difficulty.
The travellers had hardly time to reflect with gratitude to God, on
their safety, when that part of the ice, from which they had just now
made good their landing, burst asunder, and the water forcing itself from
below, covered and precipitated it into the sea. In an instant, as if by a
signal given, the whole mass of ise, extending for several miles from
the coast, and as far as the eye could reach, began to burst and to be
overwhelmed by the immense waves. The sight was tremendous and
awfully grand, the large fields of ice raising themselves out of the water,
striking against each other and plunging into the deep with a violence
not to be described, and a noise like the discharge of innumerable bat-
teries of heavy guns. The darkness of the night, the roaring of the wind
— 85 -
and sea, and the dashing of the waves and ice against the rocks, filled
the travellers with sensations of awe and horror, so as almost to deprive
them of the power of utterance. They stood overwhelmed with astonish-
ment at their miraculous escape, and even the heathen Esquimaux ex-
pressed gratitude to God for their deliverance.
Cluestions.
I. What was Samuel Liebisch required to do? — 2. Who was appointed to
accompany hira? — When did they leave Nain, and what was the state of the
weather? — 4 By whom was the sledge driven, and who joined them? — 5.
Whom did the two sledges contain? — 6. At the rate of how many miles an
hour did they go over the frozen sea? — 7. What did they meet at eight
o'clock, and what was the result of the conversation of the Espuimaux? — 8.
How did the Missionaries act, and why? — 9. What did their own Esquimaux
hint after some time, and how was the ground swell only to be perceived? —
10. To whom are the chasms in the ice terrible?
II. What happened as soon as the sun declined towards the west? — 12.
What filled the air, and how much had the ground swell increased? — 13. What
occasioned an uudulatory motion, and what was it like?
14. Where did the Esquimaux drive to, and what was their intention? —
15. What was Mark's advice? — 16. Give a description of the terrific prospect
before them? — 17. What was now the only hope left? — 18. Did they suc-
ceed in this?
19. What happened as soon as they had gained the shore? — 20. Describe
the sight presented by the sea and ice? — 22. What were the feelings of the
travellers at their miraculous escape?
75. Over the Rapids.
On the 29-th of April, 1810, a party of Englishmen embarked at
Pointe du Lac, on Lake St. Frances, in Canada, in an American barge,
or broad flat-bottomed boat, deeply laden with wood ashes, passengers,
and baggage, with the intention of proceeding down the River St. Law-
rence. The adventures of this little river vessel and its passengers have
been related by one of the party in a narrative which, for exciting inter-
est, may be compared with any of the most thrilling stories of disaster
by wreck.
Above Montreal, for nearly a hundred miles, the River St. Lawrence,
as is well known, is interrupted in its course by rapids which are occa-
- 86 -»-
sioned by the river being confined within comparatively narrow, shallow,
rocky channels. Through these it rushes with great force and noise, and
is agitated like the ocean in a storm. By some, these rapids have been
admired for grandeur and appearance more than the Falls of Niagara.
They are from half a mile to nine miles long each, and require regular
pilots. On the 30-th of April, the party arrived at the village of the
Cedars, immediately below which are three sets of very dangerous rapids—
the Cedars, the Split Rock, and the Cascades — distant from each other
abought eight miles. On the morning of the 1-st of May, they set out
from here, Their barge was very deep and very leaky; and the captain,
a daring, rash man, refused to take a pilot. After they had passed the
Cedar Rapid, not without danger, the captain called for some rum, de-
claring, at the same time, that all the powers could not steer the barge
better than he did. Soon after this, the boat entered the Split Rock Rap-
ids by a wrong channel, and, to their horror, the passengers found them-
selves advancing rapidly towards a dreadful watery precipice , down
which they went. The barge slightly grazed her bottom against the rock,
and the fall was so great as nearly to take away their hreath. They here
took in a great deal of water, which was mostly baled out again before
they hurried on to what the Canadians call the «grand bouillie»,or great
boiling. In approaching this place, the captain let go the helm, saying,
« Now for it; here we fill». The barge was almost immediately over-
whelmed in the midst of immense foaming breakers, which rushed over
the bows, carrying away planks, oars, and other articles. « About half a
minute elapsed between the filling and going down of the barge», says
the narrator of this story, during which I had sufficient presence of mind
to strip oif my three coats, and was loosening my braces when the barge
sunk, and I found myself floating in the midst of people and baggage.
Each man caught hold of something: one of the crew seized me, and kept
me down under the water, but, contrary to my expectation, let me go
again. On rising to the surface, I got hold of a trunk, on which two other
men were then holding. Just at this spot, where the Split Rock Rapids
terminated, the bank of the river is well inhabited, and we could see
women on shore running about much agitated. A canoe put off , and picked
up three of our number, who had gained the bottom of the barge which
had upset and got rid of its cargo; these they landed on an island. The
canoe put off again, and was approaching near to where I was, with two
— 87 —
others, holding on the trunk; when, terrified with the vicinity of the
cascades, to which we were approaching, it put back, notwithstanding
my exhortations in French and English to induce the two men on board
to advance. The bad hold which one man had of the trunk to which we
were adhering subjected him to constant immersion, and in order to
escape his seizing hold of me, I let go the trunk, and, in conjunction
with another man, got hold of the boom which, with the gaff and sails,
had been detached from the mast to make room for the cargo, and floated
oif. I had just time to grasp this boom, when we were hurried into the
cascades; in these I was instantly buried, and nearly suffocated. On ris*
ing to the surface, I found one of my hands still on the boom, and my
companion also adhering closely to the gaff. Shortly after descending the
cascades, 1 perceived the barge, bottom upwards, floating near me. I
succeeded in getting to it, and held by a crack in one end of it; the vio-
lence of the water, and the falling out of the casks of ashes, had quite
wrecked it. For a long time I contented myself with this hold, not daring
to endeavour to get upon the bottom, which 1 at length effected, and from
this my new situation I called out to my companion who still preserved
his hold of the gaff; he shook his head, and when the waves suffered me
to look again he was gone. He made no attempt to come near me, being
unable or unwilling to let go his hold, and trust himself to the waters
which were then rolling over his head.»
The Cascades are a kind of fall, or rapid descent, in the river, over
a rocky channel below; going down is called by the French, «sauter»,
to leap the Cascades. For two miles below the channel continues in an
uproar, just like a storm at sea; and he was frequently nearly washed off
the barge by the waves which rolled over it. «! now», continued the
writer, » entertained no hope whatever of escaping; and although I con-
tinued to exert myself to hold on, such was the state to which I was
reduced by cold, that 1 wished only for a speedy death, and frequently
thought of giving up the contest as useless. My hands felt as if dimin-
ished in size one half, and I certainly should (after I became very cold and
much exhausted) have fallen asleep, but for the waves that were passing
over me, which obliged me to attend to my situation. I had never de-
scended the St. Lawrence before; but 1 knew there were more rapids
ahead, perhaps another set of cascades, but at all events La Chine Rapids
whose situation I did not exactly know. 1 was hourly in expectation of
- 88 -
these putting an end to me, and often fancied some points of ice extend-
ing from the shore to the head of foaming rapids. At one of the moments
in which the succession of waves permitted me to look up, I saw, at a
distance, a canoe with four men, coming towards me, and waited in
confidence to hear the sound of their paddles; but in this I was dis-
appointed. The men, as I afterwards learned, were Indians who, happen-
ing to fall in with one of the passengers' trunks, picked it up, and re-
turned to the shore for the purpose of pillaging it, leaving, as they since
acknowledged, the man on the- boat to his fate. Indeed, I am certain I
should have more to fear from their avarice, than to hope from their
humanity; and it is more than probable that my life would have been
taken, to secure them in the possession of my watch and several coins
which I had about me.»
The accident happened at eight o'clock in the morning; in the course
of some hours, as the day advanced, the sun grew warmer, the wind
blew from the south, and the water became calmer. The shipwrecked
man then got upon his knees, and found himself in the small lake of St.
Louis, which is about three to five miles wide, and with which he hap-
pened to be familiar. With some difficulty he got upon his feet, but was
soon convinced, by cramps and spasms in all his sinews, that he was
incapable of swimming any great distance, and he was then two miles
from the shore. He was now going, he thought, with wind and current,
to destruction; and though cold, hungry, and fatigued, was obliged again
to sit down to rest, when an extraordinary circumstance greatly relieved
him.
On examining the wreck, to see if it were possible to detach any part
of it by which to steer, he perceived something loose entangled in a
fork of the wreck, and so carried along. This he found to be a small
trunk, bottom upwards, which, with some difficulty, he dragged up upon
the barge. After near an hour's work, in which he broke a p.enknife
whilst trying to cut out the lock, he made a hole in the top, and, to his
great satisfaction, drew out a bottle of rum, a cold tongue, some cheese,
and a bagful of bread and cakes all wet. Of these he made a seasonable,
though very moderate use; and the trunk answered the purpose of a
chair to sit upon, elevated upon the surface of the water. After in vain
endeavouring to steer the wreck, or direct its course to the shore, and
having made every signal in his power, with his waistcoat and other
— 89 —
m
things, to the several headlands which he had passed, he fancied he was
driving into a bay which, however, soon proved to be the termination of
the lake and the opening of the river, the current of which was carrying
him rapidly along. He passed several small uninhabited islands; but the
banks of the river appearing to be covered with houses, he again renewed
his signals with his waistcoat and a shirt which he took out of the trunk,
hoping, as the river narrowed, they might be perceived; but the distance
was too great. The velocity with which he was going now convinced him
of his near approach to the dreadful rapids of La Chine. Night was- drawing
on; his destruction appeared certain, but it did not, he said, disturb him
very much; the idea of death had lost his novelty, and had become quite
familiar. He even felt more provoked at having escaped so long to be
finally sacrificed, than alarmed at the prospect. «Finding signals in vain,»
he continues, «1 now set up a cry or howl, such as I thought best cal-
culated to carry a distance, and, being favoured by the wind, it did,
although at above a mile distant, reach the ears of some people on shore.
At last I perceived a boat rowing towards me, which, being very small
and white- bottomed, I had for some time taken for a fowl with a white
breast, and finally I was taken off the barge by Captain Johnstone, after
being ten hours on the water. I found myself at the village of La Chine,
twenty-one miles below where the accident happened, having been driven
by the winding of the current a much greater distance. I received no
other injury than bruised knees and breast, with a slight cold. The acci-
dent took some hold of my imagination, and for seven or eight succeeding
nights, in ray dreams, I was engaged in the dangers of the Cascades,
and surrounded by drowning men. My escape was owing to a concurrence
of fortunate circumstances. I happened to catch hold of various articles
of support, and to exchange each article for another just at the right
time. Nothing but the boom could have carried me down the Cascades
without injury, and nothing but the barge could have saved me below
them. I was also fortunate in having the whole day; had the accident
happend one hour later, I should have arrived opposite the village of
La Chine after dark, and, of course, would have been destroyed, in the
rapids below, to which I was swiftly advancing. The trunk, which fur-
nished me with provisions and a resting-place above the water, I have
every reason to think was necessary to save my life. Without it, Imust
have passed the whole time in the water, and have been exhausted with
12
— 90 — .
cold and hunger. When the people on shore saw our boat take the wrong
channel, they predicted our destruction; the floating luggage, by sup-
porting us for a time, enabled them to make an exertion to save us; but
as it was not supposed possible to survive the passage of the Cascades,
no further exertions were thought of, nor indeed could they well have
been made.» Of the eight men who passed down the Cascades, none es-
caped or were seen again but the writer, who some time afterwards pub-
lished his singular narrative in a Liverpool newspaper, by the editor of
which it was vouched for as true in every particular.
It was at this place that General Amhersfs brigade, coming to attack
Canada, were lost in September, 1760, the French at Montreal receiving
the first intelligence of the invasion by the dead bodies floating past the
town. It was said that the pilot who conducted their boats, being secretly
favourable to the French , had committed the same error as the captain
of the barge in the above narrative. He had intentionally taken the wrong
channel, and the other boats, following mechanically and close upon him,
Avere all involved in the same destruction. No less than forty-six barges,
seventeen whale-boats, one row-galley with eighty men, besides artillery,
stores, and ammunition, were then swept down these terrible rapids, and
entirely lost. (The Temple Anecdotes).
Questions.
I. What happened on the 29-th of April, 1810 ?— 2. What is said of the
adventures of the little river vessel and its passengers?
3. Give a description of the rapids in the River St. Lawrence? — 4. Name
the three sets of very dangerous rapids ? — 5. After the party had passed the
Cedar Rapid, what did the captain do? — 6. What happened soon after this? —
7. On approaching the ((grand bouillie», what did the captain say? — 8. What
did the narrator do between the filling and going down of the barge? — 9. How
were three of the passengers saved?— 10. Give a further account of the story?
I I . What are the Cascades , and what is the meaning of the French term
wsauter))? — 12. To what state was the writer reduced, and what did he wish
for? — 13. What do we read about the canoe with the four Indians in it?
14. Where did the shipwrecked man find himself, and what did he do and
think ?
15. What did the writer perceive, and what followed?— 16. Were his sig-
nals successful? — 17. What did he set up, and what was the consequence? —
^ 91 —
18. Did the writer receive any injury?— 19. To what was his escape owing?
20. What is said about the people on shore?
Zl. Give an account of the destruction of General Amherst's brigade?
76. A Visit to a Famous Island.
According to a well-known tradition, the story of «Robinson Crusoe»
was suggested to De Foe by the adventures of Alexander Selkirk who was,
early in the last century, cast away on the desert island of Juan Fernan-
dez, off the coast of South America, in the Pacific Ocean; and there seems
little doubt that De Foe , though placing his imaginary island off a far
distant part of the South American coast, had really in his mind the island
described in the narrative of the Scottish sailor's experiences. Among
sailors this island will probably always be known as « Crusoe's Islands;
and as long as the adventures of Robinson Crusoe are read , voyagers in
those seas will feel some curiosity about the traditional scene of that
famous story. Something of this feeling, mixed with a natural longing
for going ashore after long beating about at sea , seems to have actuated
Mr. Ross Browne and ten companions to pay a visit to Selkirk's island,
under the singular circumstances related in his narrative of «A Ramble
in the Footsteps of Alexander Selkirk*, recently published.
It was early in the morning of the 19-th of May , 1849 , that the
ship «Anteus» , in which Mr. Browne was sailing as a passenger to San
Francisco , came in sight of the highest peak of the mountains on the
island. The weather was mild and clear; as the sun rose it fell calm, and
the vessel lay nearly motionless. A light blue spot , which might have
passed for a cloud, but for the indistinctness of its outline , was all that
appeared in the horizon. «Wearyofthe gales we had encountered off Cape
Horn*, says Mr. Browne, »it was a pleasant thing to see a spot of earth
once more , and there was not a soul on board but felt a desire to go
ashore*. For some days past Mr. Browne and a few others had talked
about making the attempt, in case they came near enough; but now there
seemed to be every prospect of a long calm, and there was no other chance
but to lower a boat, and row for the distant land. A party of the passen-
gers, headed by Mr. Browne, agreed to do this, provided they could get
a boat; and Mr. Bingham, a fellow-passenger, who happened to be owner
— 92 —
of one of the quarter - boats , fell with their scheme , together with his
partner and some friends. They were sanguine of beijig able to row to
the island before dusk, and return the following day, and the dead calm
which prevailed promised them ample time for a still longer expedition;
but knowing that their captain would probably endeavour to dissuade
them from their project , they resorted to a little strategy to accomplish
it. They had been in the habit of rowing about the ship whenever it was
calm , and this provided a good excuse for lowering the boat. Being in
great haste to launch it, they only thought of a few necessary articles in
case they should be cast away or driven from the island. Not knowing
but that there might be outlaws or savages ashore, they armed themselves
with a double-barreled gun, a fusee, and an old harpoon, which was all
that they could smuggle into the boat in the excitement of starting. At
this time the captain , happening to come on deck , heard the rumour of
their expedition; but he appears to have thought that the matter was a
mere frolic, though he warned them that the peak which they could see
in the horizon was fully seventy miles off. But Browne and his compan-
ions had no doubt that he told them this only to deter them , and they
had made up their minds that the island was not in fact at more than
half that distance. Captain Brooks appears to have still regarded the pro-
ject as having more of bravado than reality in it, and as the boat pushed
off, called out good-humouredly, «Be sure not to forget the peaches; you
will find plenty of them in the valleys. Only do not lose sight of the ves-
sel*. The boat's crew promised they would take care of themselves, and
come back safely, if they were not foundered.
It was about nine in the morning as, with three cheers, they pushed
off from the ship. Their boat was only twenty-two feet long, and was
made of sheet-iron, and very narrow. The proper number of men for it
was six, but, in consideration of the distance and the necessity for a
change at the oars, five more were crowded into it. Most of them, except
Browne and a whaleman, named Paxton, were unused to rowing, so that
the prospect of reaching land depended upon the day remaining calm,
and upon keeping the boat trimmed. « There was no excuse*, says Mr.
Browne, «for this risk of life, save that insatiable thirst for novelty,
which all experience, to some extent, after the monotony of a long voy-
age. I will only say, in regard to myself, that I was too full of joy at
- 93 -
the idea of a ramble iu the footsteps of Robinson Crusoe to think of risk at
all. If there was danger, it merely served to give zest to the adventure».
. By their calculation of the distance and the rate of going, they ex-
pected to reach the land by sundown, or soon after; and their plan was
then to make a tent of the boat sail, and sleep under it till morning,
when, by rising early, they thought they could take a run over the island,
and perhaps get some fruit and vegetables. Should a light breeze spring
up during the night, they thought it likely the ship would be well up
by the land, when they could pull out, and get on board without diffi-
culty. But before long they began to find that distances at sea are de-
ceptive. About noon, when they ate their first meal, their ship had dis-
appeared behind them; but still there was but a single peak visible on
the horizon, rising blue and dim in the distance, and apparently not
much higher than when they had seen it from the masthead of their
ship. A ripple beginning to show upon the water, they hoisted their sail
to catch the breeze, and found that it helped them onwards. All of them,
having gone so far, were uoav in favour of going on, though in secret
they felt that there was a great deal of danger, for the sides of their
iron boat were only an eighth of au inch thick, and it was so loaded that
the gunwales rose scarcely more than ten inches out of the water. At
sunset the land had risen over the sea from end to end, and they hoped
to reach it in about three hours; but none of them knew anything about
the shores, whether they abounded in bays or not, and, if so, where
any place of landing eould be found, which made them doubtful how to
steer. « Clouds », says Mr. Browne's narrative,* were gathering all over
the horizon, a few stars shone out dimly overhead, and the shades of
night began to cover the island. Swiftly , yet with resistless power, the
clouds swept over the whole sky, and the horizon in all the grandeur
of its vast circle, was lost in the shades of night. No sail Avas near; no
light shone upon us now but the dim rays of a few solitary stars through
the rugged masses of clouds; no sound broke upon the listening ear save
the weary stroke of our oars; a gloom had settled upon the mighty
wilderness of waters, and we were awed and silent ^>.
The wind soom began to increase, and all cowered down in the boat
to keep her balanced. The spray washed over them fearfully, and the
sail shook so in the wind that, having let go all, they thought it would
tear the mast out. At this time they were about three leagues from the
-^ 94 --"
south-east end of the island, which was the nearest point then in sight.
As the clouds spread hy the attraction of the land, the whole island he-
came wrapped in a dark mist, and in half an hour they could discern
nothing but the gloom of the storm around them, as they bore down to-
wards the darkest part. Their lamp was now quenched by a heavy sea,
and being unable to distinguish the points of the compass, they were
fearful that they should miss the island, and be carried off so far that
they could never reach it again. Whenever there was a lull they tried to
haul in their sheet, but a sudden flaw striking them once, the boat lay
over till she buried her gunwales, and the sea broke heavily over the lee
side; and the crew at the same time springing in a body to the weather-
side to balance her, brought her over suddenly so that it was a miracle
that they were not capsized, which, had it happened so far out at sea in
the darkness, would have made an end of them. It was as much as they
could do, by bailing continually, to keep her afloat, and every moment
they expected to be submerged. They knew it was four hundred miles to
the coast of Chili, and they had neither water nor provisions left At
best their position was perilous. Ignorant of the bearings of the harbour,
they were at a loss what to do, even if they should be able to reach the
lee of the island, for they had seen that it was chiefly rock-bound and
inaccessible to boats.
About two in the morning, as well as they could judge, they found
themselves close under the lee of a high cliff, upon the base of which
the surf broke with a tremendous roar. Some of the party, reckless of
the consequences, were in favour of running straight in, and attempting
to gain the shore at all hazards. The more prudent protested against the
folly of this course, well knowing that they would be inevitably capsized
in the surf, and dashed to pieces upon the rocks. They accordingly en-
deavoured to lay off and wait for daylight. It was a wild and awful place
in the dead of the night, it being so dark that they scarcely knew where
they steered. Once they stopped to listen, fancying they heard voices on
the shore, but it was only the moaning of the tempest upon the cliffs,
and the frightful beating of the surf below. Having pulled, as they be-
lieved, about twelve miles along the shore, and seeing no sign of a cove
or bay, they despaired of getting ashore before daylight, when they were
startled by one of their number crying out that he saw a light. The light
disappeared and appeared again. It seemed at first to be on the shore.
— 95 —
but finally they discovered that it hung in the rigging of a large vessel,
which they were enabled to hail. To the inquiry, «Boat ahoy! where
are you from?» the boat's crew replied, «The ship 'Anteus', bound for
California: what ship is this?» The answer was «The 'Brooklyn', bound
for California ». No longer able to suppress thfeir joy, the boat's crew
gave three hearty cheers, and after a little while they found means of
getting safely aboard the « Brooklyn », where they met with a kind wel-
come from the master. Captain Richardson, and his crew.
To endeavour to regain the ship by their boat was hopeless; and the
adventurous boat's crew spent some days in exploring the island, which
they found to be inhabited only by sixteen persons- consisting of an Ame-
rican and four or five Chilian men with their wives and children. Mr.
Ross Browne gives an interesting description of the condition of the
island, and pleasantly interweaves with his narrative some fanciful adven-
tures, such as may be supposed to haunt the dreams of cast-aways, full
of the associations of the place. Fortunately for them, three days later
the «Anteus») hove in sight of the island, and the boat's crew were once
more enabled to resume their voyage with no worse result from their
adventure than a reprimand from the captain for their rashness and dis-
obedience to his orders. (The Temple Anecdotes),
Questions.
I. By what was the story of « Robinson Crusoe » suggested to De Foe? —
2. By what name is the island of Juan Fernandez known to sailors?
3. Where, when, and in what ship did Mr. Browne sail? — 4. How was
the weather, and what desire did all on board feel? — 5. Of what was there
every prospect, and what did a party of the passengers agree to do? — 6. What
articles did they take with them. — 7. What warning did the captain give them,
and what did he exclaim good-humouredly?
8. What does Mr. Browne say in excuse of the danger, to which the party
was exposed?
9. What did they find with regard to distances at sea? — 10. What does
Mr. Browne's narrative say?
II. Give a further description of the weather, and of the state in which
the boat was?
12. What happened when they had pulled about twelve miles along the
shore?
13. How did the boat's crew spend some days, and of what does Mr. Browne
give an interesting description? — 14. What happened three days later?
— 96 —
77. The Sedar, and Leopard Hunt.
I received a letter addressed to me at Calcutta, from a friend atBer-
hampore, stating that several robberies had taken place in my household
during my absence, and that my sedar-bearer, on whom I could rely,
had begged of my friend to write to me to return as soon as possible.
This information reached me as I lay on my couch, completely worn
with the fatigues of the day previous; for I had been with some brother-
officers to Barrackpore, to see a hunt by leopards — a sight the most
curious that I ever beheld in India. These animals are so tame, that they
range at large, and actually sleep beside their keeper. This I can vouch
for, as I have seen it. They protect him with the same fidelity that a
dog would defend his master, if any stranger should approach him during
his slumbers. This I particularly know, as 1 unfortunately went to awake
him, unaware of his faithful guardians, and nearly paid the penalty of my
folly. The keeper, however, started up, and called them off. They obeyed
with the docility of domestic animals, and fell behind at his word of
command. They belong, I believe, to the Governor-General for the time
being, and are kept in the park of the government-house. It was here
that I saw them run down a deer. Never in my life have I beheld any-
thing so graceful in their movements, or so rapid as their speed. Consi-
derably swifter than greyhounds, they bounded- along, and soon brought
down their game. Fatigued with the excitement of this beantiful sport, I
returned to Calcutta, and, as I have mentioned, was lying on my couch
when the information, conveyed by my friend atBerhampore arrived. No
time, however, was to be lost; so starting up, 1 ordered my palanquin
to be brought to the door , determined on travelling up the one hundred
and sixteen miles by bearers. This mode of proceeding may appear strange
to Europeans, who will scarcely believe the rapidity with which such a
journey is accomplished. By the river, on account of the current, seven
days are required to arrive at Berhampore; by land, it only takes twenty-
eight hours. The bearers, like post-horses, are relived every twelve or
fifteen miles. Each relay consists of eight men, who shift the burden to
each other at the end of about every league. The others trot alongside to
rest themselves, the whole party singing and jolting on at the rate of
about four miles and a half an hour. During the night the disengaged
bearers carry torches, to scare away the wild beasts. The fire-flies buz-
zing about, like innumerable stars, add to the beauty of the picture, and
> — 97 —
render this scene most romantic and picturesque; though I must confess
the uneasy motion, the broiling of the sun in this luxurious, coffin-like
conveyance, and the fear of a voracious tiger, or other savage monster,
take away, in my opinion , all the charms which would otherwise gild
this mode of travelling.
At day break on the second morning, (for I had halted a few hours
at Aghardeep), I arrived in the cantonments, and entered my house, which
stood in an extensive barrack-square.
After breakfasting most luxuriously on Bombay ducks, (a small salt
fish, something like the European caplin), the sable fish, (closely resem-
bling our salmon) and snipes , which are here far more plentiful than
•sparrows in England , I secretly sent for the wise man of the place to
come and discover the thief; then, ordering the servants to fall in, in a
row under the verandah, I quietly and confidently awaited his arrival. I
had often seen his powers tested, and never knew them fail. lam aware
that my country-men will smile at my credulity; but, as I have the con-
viction from personal and constant observation, I do not hesitate to assert,
that his manner of discovering crime, though the simplest, was the most
wonderful that I ever beheld. The present instance served to strengthen
my belief.
In every bazaar or village in India exists a tciss man^ a sort of half-
priest, half conjurer, who' predicts events, tells fortunes, secures families,
and discovers crimes. These individuals are looked upon with great awe
by the natives, and are often found useful in the last instance by Euro-
peans.
On the arrival of the magician, he made the men form circle around
him; then uttering some prayers , he produced a small bag of rice , and
taking out a handful, gave it to the man nearest to him, and desired him
to chew it, while he continued to recite certain prayers or incantations.
In a moment or two he held a plate to the man, and desired him to spit
out the grain. He did so; it was well chewed, and the man instantly de-
clared innocent. Another and another succeeded. At length , he came to
one of my favourite servants — one whom I never suspected. On taking
the rice, the man seemed dreadfully convulsed. He ground his teeth, and
worked hard to masticate it; but all in vain. When he rendered it on the
plate, the grain was uncrushed, unchewed. The M'zse maw instantly pro-
claimed him to be the thief: upon which, the servant falling on his knees,
13
— 98 — .
confessed the crime and detailed a series of tliefts, for wliich 1 liad sus-
pected, and even punislied, otliers. By iiis own sliowing, he must have
been the greatest rascal, the greatest scoundrel alive. He had, however,
lived long with me; so I contented myself with instantly dismissing him.
In the evening I was sitting at whist, when I was called out by my
sedar -bearer, whom I before mentioned as one ofthe most faithful creatures
in existence. He begged of me instantly to set out for Moorshedabad — a
distance of about ten miles , in order to see a cousin of mine , who had
sent me a verbal message by a punee (a foot - runner) , requesting my
instant attendance, as he had met with a serious accident. When I asked
to see the servant, I found he was already gone; and, when I expressed
my astonishment that he had not even sent me a chit (note), my bearer
assured me the accident had deprived him of the power of writing; but
that he earnestly solicited me to lose no time in setting out. Of course I
did not hesitate ordering my palanquin out once more. Though sadly tired,
I started off , after making an apology to my friends for thus abruptly
leaving them. On my arrival at Moorshedabad, I hurried to the bungalow
of my relative. Here I found the world fast asleep; and, amongst others,
my cousin. He was perfectly well, and slumbering most comfortably. On
being awoke , he positively denied having sent any messenger whatever
to me, and had met with no accident, nor was ever better in his life.
The deception thus practised on me staggered me so much, that, in
spite of every remonstrance , I borrowed a relay of bearers , and set out
on my instant return home.
On re-entering my quarter I folind all quiet and stiH as the grave. I
aroused some of the sleeping servants; and, having obtained a light, asked
for the sedar-bearer , determined to make an example of the rascal for
having thus played off a practical joke on me. None ofthe others, however,
knew where he was; so I proceeded to my bed-room, resolved to punish
him in the morning. As I passed through my dressing-room, I perceived
my drawers open; I examined them, and found that a suit of my clothes
had been extracted; and, by a turban I found lying near, I discovered that
they had been taken by the sedar. That a man, whom I had hitherto looked
upon as incorruptibly honest, should thus act, was a matter of the greatest
surprise. That one, who had ever been considered as the most faithful of
my servants, should thus, suddenly turn thief, annoyed, and disappointed
me. But , what puzzled me more than all was , that my people declared
_ 99 --
he had been seen to enter this room early in the evening, but most po^
sitively had not passed out again. Tired with conjecture, 1 went into my
sleeping apartment.
I started back with surprise. Upon the bed lay a figure, the very
counterpart of myself! My heart misgave me as I rushed forward, and
tore a handkerchief from the features of ray other self, who so closely
resembled me , as he appeared stretched on my bed , that my followers
kept staring at me , and at the figure before them , as if doubtful of my
identity.
As the covering was removed , I perceived the countenance of my
sedar. He was fast asleep. I attempted in anger to awake him. He was
a corpse. Stone dead before me -was stretched my late favourite servant.
On a close examination I found a sharp-pointed instrument (probably poi-
soned) thrust into his heart, from which it was still undrawn. I cuuld
not decipher the dreadful mystery.
Presently one of my kidmutgars rushed up. He held a leaf in his
hand on which some characters in Hindoostanee had been traced (as usual)
with a pin. I sent for my munchee (interpreter) , who thus translated
them :
« Beloved master ! a plot was formed this day by the man whom you
this day discovered to be a thief, to murder you. It was too well planned
for you to escape. I was too solemnly sworn to dare to reveal it to you!
Pardon me , beloved master ! but I ventured to deceive you. I took your
place: and have felt happy to die for you ! May the God of the white man
make you happy » !
The riddle was solved. The delinquent , thinking he had completed
his deed of blood , had fled. I provided for the family of my attached
servant. Not one of his fellows, however, seemed astonished at the act.
They appeared to look upon such devotion as a matter of course. For myself,
I never can, I never w^ill, forget the fidelity of my devoted « sedar ».
H, R. Addison.
Claestions.
1. What did the letter Avhich Mr. A, received state? — 2. Where had Mr.
A, been, and what had he seen? — 3. AVhere did the leopards sleep, and what
do they do?— 4. How long does it take from Calcutta to Berhampore by water,
and how long by land?— 5. Describe the mode of travelling by bearers? — 6.
What takes away the charms of travelling? — 7, Whom did Mr, Addison send
— 100 —
for? — 8. Who exists in every bazaar or village? — 9. What did the magician
do on his arrival, and what did he give to the man next him? — 10. How did
the favourite servant act on taking the rice? — 11 . When the wise man proclaimed
him to be the thief, what dicVhe do? — 12. What happened in the evening as
Mr. Addison was sitting at Avhist? — 13. What did Mr. Addison find on arriving
at Moorshedabad? — 14. What did he find on returning to his quarters, and what
did he determine to do? — 15. What did he perceive on passing through his
dressing room? — 16. What did Mr. A. do on entering his sleeping apartment? —
17. What lay upon the bed, and what did Mr. A. do?— 18. What did Mr. A.
perceive when the covering was removed? — 19. What did he find on a close
examination? — 20. What did the kidmudgar bring? — 21. What were the
contents of the letter?— 22. How^ did the other servants regard this act?
78. A Priucess Royal.
I remember to have fallen in once with certain American captains,
and colonels, and men-at-arms, in a small place on the Brazos river, a
few miles north of Jose Maria, in Texas. I had paid a visit to this place,
near which a dear companion of my youth had been murdered. We were
school- fellows, and for five years we had been brother officers in the
same regiment. He went to \\i% United States just when the war broke
out with Mexico, and became captain of a company of Kentucky rifle-
men. A few months after the battle of Vera Cruz, he was deputed by
the officers of his brigade to present to General Taylor — who was on
leave of absence at New- Orleans — a gold medal as token of their re-
spect. Choosing the nearest way from the camp across the country, he
set out on his errand with a guide and two servants, all on horseback,
armed to the teeth. In Jose Maria, my poor friend unwisely exhibited
the medal to a crowd of respectable-looking persons, calling themselves
colonels, majors, and captains, who seemed to take great pleasure in
studying its engravings. He did not then remark in what a hurry some
of those colonels were to start before him. But the medal has, in ten
years, never more been heard of, and my old comrade and two of his
companions were found shot dead in a ravine.
It was near this place that I also fell among colonels. There was one
of them who took a great liking to my horse, when he saw me giving it
to the ostler. He tapped it repeatedly on the neck, declaring it, with an
— 101 —
oath, to be a nice hanimal and no mistake — which assertion he repeated
afterwards over and over again to his fellow-men in the coffeeroom, who,
when they had been out to satisfy their curiosity, agreed with him upon
the matter, «Now, would'nt that be a nag for you, major? » he said to a
tall, powerful man, with a rough beprd and disgusting features, who sat
a little apart from the rest, "and wore a large grey coat. The major said
nothing, but stalked out of the room, soon afterwards, followed by the
colonel. The others had again taken up their old topic of conversation,
and were talking politics, rather vehemently as I thought, when the
waiter — a German — came up to me, and told me in our own lan-
guage, that I had better take care, as those two ruffians outside had set
eyes upon my horse, and would be sure to steal it, if I gave them the
slightest chance. Annoyed at this intelligence, I asked my countryman
what he thought it would be best for me to do.
" «Why», said he, «you have fallen in with a bad set, and, if you
want to keep your horse, I should advise you to escape as soon as pos-
sible*. After a little reflection, I resolved to start at once, and made for
the stable. There I found the colonel again, most urgently talking to the
ostler, who only looked at me in a rather impudent manner, when I told
him to bring out my horse, and paid me no further attention. I therefore
began to bridle for myself.
«I say, captain! » said the colonel, coming up to me after a while,
and tapping me on the shoulder.
«Sir!» «>■
«Come on, man! don't make a fool of yourself! I want to buy that
'ere 'osse, captain!*
«Do you?»
Thank heaven'! I was in the saddle by that time.
«D,o I? Am I the man to be put out of my way by one of these 'ere
chawed up Germans? »
He laid both his hands upon the bridle of my horse. My blood gene-
rally boils at an insulting word against my countrymen, especially when
I am far from home in foreign lands. In a trice, the stick of the riding-
whip came down upon the colonel's head, whilst the horse urged to a
powerful leap, threw him ten yards away upon the ground. As I knew
very well that, according to the customs of the country, this was a re-
volver affair now, and as I had no wish to become entangled in such a
— 102 — -
business, I did not wait until the colonel had picked himself up, but
rode forward without delay.
I was stopped by the waiter, whom 1 heard calling after me, and
who was out of breath when he came up to me at last. The honest fellow
gave me a direction, which I was afterwards glad to have followed. He
said that the colonel, though a coward, was'a most desperate villain, not
at all likely to give way so soon, but that the worst of the whole set was
that tall fellow, the major, whom he suspected to have gone in search of
some of his companions. «You will be chased by a couple of these ro-
gues", he said, «as sure as I am a Saxon! Let me advise you. Follow
your way. up to the north until you are out of sight, then do you turn
back to the south, as far as Jose Maria. At the ravine south-east of that
place turn to the left, and, following the course of the brook, ride for
your life. Twenty miles up the stream you will come to a settlement,
called the Wood Creek. Old Delamotte lives there, and he's the man for
you to trust »,
I offered the waiter a few pieces of money, but he would not take
them, then a hearty shake of the hand, and this he took most cordially.
«Stop!» he said when I had already set spurs to my horse. He lifted
up each of the horse's legs, and looked carefully at the shoeing. «All
right», he said; «I thought the ostler might have played you one of his
tricks, but he has not yet had time, I suppose. Now, go a head, and
don't forget the Frenchman! »
I darted off.
It was eleven o'clock in the morning. I had to make twenty miles
to the ravine which my countryman had pointed out to me. But my horse
was worthy of the colonel's admiration, and, in spite not only of the
round-about way I had taken in accordance with my friend's advice, and
halfan-hour's delay for rest at Jose Maria, it was but five in the evening,
when I reached this melancholy spot.
I stoppe<i and looked about me. The surrounding country was all barren
and desolate , the soil sterile. There was a wooden cross erected on the
spot of the murder , and beneath it lay the mortal remains of the man
whom I had known in the full glow and joy of youth,
A strange feeling made me linger in that place. The little rivulet
smoothly gliding eastward showed me the way I was to go. I could follow
its course with my eyes to a far distant forest, the high grass of the prairie
— 103 —
having burnt a track down , as it always does at this time of the year.
Yet still I lingered.
The horse began to neigh softly, and to prick up his ears. He was
familiar with these prairies , as 1 had bought him but a few months ago
at Little Rock, in Arkansas. There was something the matter.
I listened, but heard absolutely nothing. I alighted, and, pressing my
ear to the ground, listened again. The earth trembled faintly with the
tread of horses yet at a long distance; but, when I mounted again, I could
hear .the sound. It was rapidly approaching from the direction of Jose
Maria, and, although the woods on that side of me prevented me from
seeing anything, I had but little doubt who were the horsemen. Now,
colonels, majors, captains, let us see what can be done ! My horse gave
such a sudden and vigorous jump, when I merely touched him with my
whip, that I was almost thrown from my seat. I lost my cap, and a gust
of wind threw it against that very mound by which I had been bound to
the ravine. To pick it up would have been waste of time; and, as I wished
to be out of sight before my pursuers had set foot upon the prairie , I
left it and sped away, taking as straight a line as possible in the direction
of the distant forest, to avoid the windings of the little brook, yet without
losing sight of it.
In the brave horse there was no slackening of pace; there was no
stumbling. I turned round three or four times during my rapid course,
but, except a long thin cloud of dust and ashes, raised by myself, 1 saw
nothing whatever. In an hour or so, the forest was before me, and then,
reining up a little, I again made for the brook.
I had traced its windings for about another hour, when I arrived at
a cleared space in the wood, and got sight of a block-house.
«Q,ui va la?» asked a deep voice. •
«Un ami!» was the answer.
There were two men near the house, one with grey hair and weather-
beaten, features, the other in the prime of youth, both Frenchmen. The
old man looked, with some astonishment, at my panting horse covered
with foam, at his dilated nostrils and quick beating flanks.
«Why, it seems you are in ahurry», he said. In a few words I ex-
plained the motives of my visit, and told him my adventures at Santa
Madre; not forgetting to report the advice of the German waiter at the
coffee-house, that I ishould trust in him for help.
- 404 —
He listened eagerly to my narrative, and when I gave him a minute
description of the colonel and the major, his attention grew to be intense.
((Again those two scoundrels! « he said. «Well, man, step into the
house. Never mind the horse, the lad will rub him dry. We have a few
hours before us yet. They know by this time where you are, and will
consider twice before they call here; though we are quite sure to hear
of them at nightfall*.
I expressed regret for the trouble I was bringing^ on him; but he
only laughed and replied: « Never mind, we are their match)).
((But we are only three, and after all we don't know how many
ruffians that tall fellow may bring with him».
«Let him bring a score, we are their match, I tell you! Do you ac-
count the Princess Royal nobody?*
« The what?*
«The Princess Royal: la Princesse Royale!» he laughed again.
«Don't stare at me, you'll see her by-and-by»-
The block-house had a very durable appearance; it was two stories
high, and the upper room was neatly furnished. On the wall I observed
a portrait of General Moreau. My host was no friend of the Emperor of
the Frencli: the present Emperor he mentioned only once during our
conversation, and I had better not say what he said.
He lighted a candle and began to block the windows up, whilst I was
eating and drinking what he had placed ou the table. The lad made all
safe on the ground floor, and secured the door.
«Now, we are all right!* said the old man, taking his seat at the
table, and mixing rum and water in a large bowl.
«Au triomphe de la bonne cause! » he said, touching glasses with me.
«But I don't see any ar!n?», I presently suggested.
«Arms? I have plenty of that stuff. How do you think a man could
get on in these woods without arms? But we shan't want them to-night*.
Again he laughed. «We have the Princess Royal!*
He removed the candle with the other things from the table, and
went out of the room.
The door was opened again about five minutes afterwards. I heard
the crack of a whip. I saw a rapid flash before my eyes; and, with a
mighty bound, that made my very blood run cold, a large jaguar leaped
in alighting with a heavy pounce upon the table.
— 105 —
«La princesse royale!« announced my host. I do not know exactly
what figure I may have presented at that moment; but I should not
wonder, if anybody were to tell me that I looked like a craven.
«Don't be afraid of her», said the laughing Frenchman, when he
saw me still as a mouse, scarcely venturing to turn my looks to her
bright cruel eyes. «She is as decent as a cat, when I am by. Caress
her, she likes to be fondled, it's the weak side of the sex, youknow».
I touched her delicate fur but slightly with my hand, stroking it
softly down her strong and beautiful back, the right way of the fur, you
may be sure.
She bent her powerful and elastic limbs under my frail hand, and
fanning the air with her curved tail, seemed to encourage me to bestow
more caresses.
«Well, how do you like the Princess?* asked my host.
«Why, she is indeed handsome, and I have seen none in the old
world more majestic^.
«Take her down-stairs, George*, he said to the lad, handing the
whip over to him, «and keep a look out yourself; but mind you don't
give her any supper. She shall help herself to-night» .
He placed the candle and our glasses again upon the table, and began
to sip his grog quite leisurely.
«By heavens, man», I said, after a pause, «it cannot be your real
purpose to set the tiger on those people? »
«Eh, parbleu!» replied he, «and why not? What else do they deserve?
Are they not also tigers? You don't know thera, as I do! The tall rascal
is a convicted felon, and ought to have been hanged two years ago at
San Francisco. He contrived an escape and fled to Kansas. As to the
other rogue, there is hardly a crime he has not stained his hands with.
Make your mind easy about that«.
A sudden thought came into my mind, and I asked him, whether he
knew anything about that murder of my friend ten years ago in the ravine
near Jose Maria?
No, he knew nothing about that. It was before his time; only he
should not wonder, if the major had a hand in it; it looked very like him.
We were interrupted by a loud knocking at the door. The lad came
in soon afterwards, telling us that he could descry five of them, all on
horseback.
li
— 106 —
The old raan rose, and moving one of the mattresses a little aside,
he loolied cautiously through the window. It was about nine o' clock,
and the darkness began to set in with the rapidity, peculiar to southern
climates.
The knocks were repeated more vehemently accompanied now with
a loud summons to open the door.
«Here they are, sure enough! » said the old man.
«I wonder why this major does not go to Kansas: he is the very man
for Kansas politics ».
«If you don't open now, you French dog», said a coarse voice,
« we'll break the door!»
The eyes of the old man flashed fire, but he spoke never a word.
«You know me, Delamotte», said another voice, which 1 had heard
before. «You know colonel Brown. But though we'ave to settle an old
account. I 'ave no business with you this time: it's the stranger I want,
he has stolen a orse; give him up to us, and we'll be off in a minute».
«No use talking to that old miser », said the former voice, with an
oath. «Come on, boys, break that door in, and end it! »
He seemed to suit the action to the word, for a tremendous crash
came.
«En avaut!» said the old man to the lad, and they both went down-
stairs.
I rose and paced up and down the room with rapid steps. Something
terrible, awful was going on.
The whole block- house shook and trembled with the violent kicks
and blows which were dealt at the door; but nevertheless I could hear
distinctly w^hen the iron bar was removed from it, and then I felt as if
all my blood were rushing suddenly to my heart, leaving not one single
drop in any limb of my whole body.
A roar, not at all like those you may hear in the Zoological Gardens,
Regent's Park, at feeding- time — but a hundred times wilder, sharper,
more piercing, more furious: then human cries of horror and despair —
the trampling of flying horses — the quick report of fire-arms — then
again the roar, but this time much louder, more savage, more ferocious,
more horrible -r- then a heavy fall and a confused noise of grinding of
teetii — then notliing more, because I stopped my t^ars with hiith my
hands.
— 107 —
When I turned round, my host sat at the table again, sipping his
grog, as if nothing had happened.
«Iam afraid», he said after a while, « the Princess has been wounded.
I have never heard her roaring in that way. Well, we must see after this
to-morrow. It would be a dangerous job for any man to go near her to-
night! »
Next morning, I stood by his side, when he opened the door. My
first glance fell upon the tiger cowering in a thick brown- red pool. She
was licking at a red spot upon her left flank, which seemed to have bled
profusely; but with both her powerful fore-paws she clung to a deformed
and shapeless mass which bore no likeness to anything 1 had ever seen.
The corpse of a horse, frightfully mutilated, lay close by, and the whole
ground was strewn with fragments of a horrible appearance. My host
having examined them all with intense curiosity, cracked his whip, and
moved straight towards the tiger.
A hollow menacing roar warned him off; the savage creature showed
her formidable range of long and powerful teeth, and hast lost all signs
of her old tameness. «She is thirsty for more blood; the Princess Royal
is«, said the Frenchman, «that's nature, you know. She can't help it,
I suppose, and as I should be grieved to kill her, we must wait till she
comes round again ».
We had to wait long. After three days the old man himself beginning
to doubt whether she ever would come round again, was forced to kill
her after all.
When we were thus enabled to examine at leisure that horrible battle-
field, he drew my attention to some remnants of a coat in which the
grey colour was still to be distinguished.
«He has had his reward! » said the old man, «though it costs me.
dear. Better than all those majors was my poor old Princess Royal».
Cloestions.
1. With whom did the author once fall in? — 2. Who was murdered near
the place to which the author paid a visit? — 3 . Give an account of the murder?
4. Who took a great liking to the author's horse, and what did he say to
the major? — 5. When the major and the colonel had left the room, what did
the German waiter tell the author?
6. What happened' to the author in the stable, and how did he make his
escape ?
— 108 —
7. When the waiter had stopped the author, what directions did he give
him?
8. When the author's horse began to neigh softly, and to prick up his ears,
what did he do'f
9. Describe the author's reception at the blockhouse?
10. What appearance had the house?
1 1 . How was the Princess Royal introduced?
12. What account did the host give of the major and the colonel?
13. Who were knocking at the door, and what did they threaten to do?
14. When the old man and the lad had gone down-stairs, what did their
guest hear?
15. Describe the appearance of the tiger on the next morning?
16. What was the old man forced to do after all?
17. What did he say while turning the author's attention to some remnants
of a grey coat?
79. Anecdote of Rev John Wesley,
Dr. Dudley was one evening taking tea with that emiDent artist, BIr.
Culy, when he asked him whether he had seen his gallery of busts. Mr.
Dudley answering in the negative, and expressing a wish to be gratified
with a sight of it, Mr. Culy conducted him thither, and after admiring
the busts of the several great men of the day, he came to one which
particularly attracted his notice, and on inquiry found it was the likeness
of the Rev. John Wesley. «Thisbust», said Mr. Culy, «struck Lord
Shelbourne in the same manner it does you, and there is a remarkable
fact connected with it, which , as I know you are fond of anecdote, I
will relate to you precisely in the same manner and words that I did to
him». On returning to the parlour, Mr. Culy commenced accordingly: uI
am a very old man; you must excuse my little failings, and, as I before
observed, hear it in the very words I repeated it to his Lordship. «My
Lord)), said I, «perhapsyou have heard of John Wesley, the founder of
the Methodists?* «0h, yes», he replied; «he— that race of fanatics/ y>
«Well, my Lord; Mr. Wesley had often been urged to have his picture
taken, but he always refused, alleging as a reason that he thought it
nothing but vanity; indeed, so frequently had he been pressed on this
point that his friends were reluctantly compelled to give up the idea. One
— 109 —
day he called on me on the business of our church. I began the old sub
ject of entreating him to allow me to take off his likeness. «Well», said
I, "knowing you value money for the means of doing good, if you will
grant my request, I will engage to give you ten guineas for the first ten
minutes that you sit, and for every minute that exceeds that time you
shall receive a guinea*. «What», said Mr. Wesley, udo lunterstand you
aright, that you will give me ten guineas for having my picture taken!
Well, I agree to it». He then stripped off his coat, and lay on the sofa,
and in eight minutes I had the most perfect bust I had ever taken. He
then washed his face, and 1 counted to him ten guineas into his hand.
«Well», said he, turning to his companion, «I never till now earned
money so speedily; but what shall wedowithit?» They then wished me
a good morning, and proceeded over Westminster Bridge. The first object
that presented itself to their view was a poor woman crying bitterly, with
three children hanging round her, each sobbing, though apparently too
young to understand their mother's grief. On inquiring the cause of her
distress, Mr. Wesley learned that the creditors of her husband were drag-
ging him to prison, after having sold their effects which were inadequate
to pay the debt by eighteen shillings, which the creditors declared should
be paid. One guinea made her happy! They then proceeded on, followed
by the blessings of the now happy mother. On Mr. Wesley's inquiring of
Mr. Barton, his friend, where their charity was most needed, he replied
he knew of no place where his money would be more acceptable than in
Giltspur-street Compter. They accordingly repaired thither, and on asking
the turnkey to point out the most miserable object under his care, he
answered, if they were come in search of poverty, they need not go far.
The first ward they entered they were struck with the appearance of a
poor wretcli who was greedily eating some potato skins. On being ques-
tioned, he inform*^ d them that he had been in that situation, supported
by the casual alms of compassionate strangers, for several months, with-
out any hope of release, and that he was confined for the debt of half a
guinea. On hearing this, Mr. Wesley gave him a guinea, which he received
with the utmost gratitude; and he had the pleasure of seeing him liber-
ated with half a guinea in his pocket. The poor man, on leaving his
place of confinement, said: « Gentlemen, as you come here in search of
poverty, pray go up stairs, ifitbe nottoolate». They instantly proceeded
thither, and beheld a sight which called forth all their compassion. On
— 110 —
a low stool, with his back towards them, sat a man, or rather a skeleton,
for he was literally nothing hut skin and hone; his hand supported his
head, and his eyes seemed to be riveted to the opposite corner of the
chamber, where lay stretched out on a pallet of straw, a young woman,
in the last stage of consumption, apparently lifeless, with an infant by
her side, which was quite dead. Mr. Wesley immediately sent for med-
ical assistance; but it was too late for the unfortunate female, who
expired a few hours afterwards from starvation, as the doctor declared.
You may imagine, my Lord, that the remaining eight guineas would
not go far in aiding such distress as this. No expense was spared for the
relief of the now only surviving sufferer. But so extreme was the weak-
ness to which he was reduced, that six weeks elapsed before he could
speak sufficiently to relate his own history. It appeard that he had been
a reputable merchant, and had married a beautiful young lady, eminently
accomplished, whom he almost idolized. They lived happily together for
some time, until, by failure of a speculation in which this whole pro-
perty was embarked, he was completely ruined. No sooner did he become
acquainted with his misfortune than he called all his creditors together,
and laid before them the state of his affairs, showing them his books
which were in the most perfect order. They all willingly signed the di-
vidend, except the lawyer who owed his rise in the world to this mer-
chant: the sura was two hundred and fifty pounds, for which he obstinately
declared he should be sent to jail. It was in vain the creditors urged him
to pity his forlorn condition, and to consider his great respectability: that
feeling was a stranger to his breast, and, in spite of all their remon-
strances, he was hurried away to prison, followed by his weeping wife.
As she was very accomplished, she continued to maintain herself by the
use of her pencil in painting small ornaments on cards; and thus they
managed to put a little aside for the time of her confinement. But so long
an illness succeeded this event, that shew^as completely incapacitated from
exerting herself for their subsistence, and their scanty savings were soon
expended by procuring the necessaries which her situation then required.
They were driven to pawn their clothes, and their resources failing, they
found themselves at last reduced to absolute starvation. The poor infant
had just expired from want, and the hapless mother was about to follow
it to the grave when Mr. Wesley and his friend entered; and, as I before
said, the husband was so reduced from the same cause, that, without the
— m —
utmost care, he must have fallen a sacrifice; and as Mr. Wesley, who
was not for doing things by halves, had acquainted himself with this
case of extreme misery, he went to the creditors and informed them of
it. They were beyond measure astonished to learn what he had to name
to them; for so long a time had elapsed without hearing anything of the
merchant, or his family, that some supposed him to be dead, and others
that he had left the country. Among the rest he called on the lawyer,
and painted to him, in the most glowing colours, the wretchedness he
had beheld, and which he (the lawyer) had been instrumental in causing;
but even this could not move him to compassion. He declared the mer-
chant should not leave the prison without paying him every farthing! Mr.
Wesley repeated his visit to the other creditors who, considering the
case of the sufferer, agreed to raise the sum and release him. Some gave
one hundred pounds, others two hundred pounds, and another three
hundred pounds. The affairs of the merchant took a different turn : God
seemed to prosper him, and in the second year he called his creditors
together, thanked them for their kindness, and paid the sum so gener-
ously obtained. Success continuing to attend him, he was enabled to
pay all his debts, and afterwards realized considerable property. His af-
flictions made such a deep impression upon his mind, that he determined
to remove the possibility of others suffering from the same cause, and for
this purpose advanced a considerable sum as a foundation fund for the
relief o"f small debtors. And the very first person who partook of the same
was ihe inexorable lawyer/ »
This remarkable fact so entirely convinced Lord Shelbourne of the
mistaken opinion he had formed of Mr. Wesley, that he immediately or-
dered a dozen of busts to embellish the grounds of his beautiful residence.
Questions.
1. With whom was Mr. Dudley one evening taking tea? — 2. Where did
Mr. Culy conduct him? — 3. Whose bust particularly attracted Mr. Dudley's
attention?— 4. What did Mr. Culy say?— 5. What exclamation did Lord Shel-
bourne make, when asked whether he had heard of John Wesley? — 6. Give
an account of Mr. Culy's persuading Mr. Wesley to have his bust taken? —
7. On leaving Mr. Culy, who was the first object that presented itself to Mr.
Wesley and his companion? — 8. What was the cause of the poor woman's
distress, and how did Mr. Wesley make her happy? — 9. On entering the first
ward in Uiltspur- street Conipter, with what was Mr. Wesley struck?— 10. Of
— 112 —
what did the poor wretch inform him, and how did Mr. Wesley relieve him? —
11. What did the poor man say, on leaving his place of confinement? — 12.
What sight did Mr. Wesley and his companion next behold'^ — 13. Give the
story of the merchant? — 14. What effect had the above remarkable fact on
Lord Shelbourne?
80. Nelson.
This darling hero of his country, when eighteen years of age, was
obliged to return from sea, on account of the bad state of his health, and
leave his brother officers, then, like himself, beginning their career, in
the full enjoyment of health and hope. This depressed his spirit very
much; and long afterwards, when the fame of Nelson was known as that
of England itself, he spoke of the fe&lings, which he at that time endu-
red. «I felt impressed)), said he, «thcit I should never rise in my pro-
fession. My mind was staggered with a view of the difficulties which I
had to surmount, and the little interest I possessed. I could discover no
means of reaching the object of my ambition. After a long and gloomy
reverie, in which I almost wished myself over board, a sudden glow of
patriotism was kindled within me, and presented my King and country
as my patrons» — «Well then»,I exclaimed: «Iwill be a hero; and con-
fiding in Providence, I will brave every danger». From that hour, as he
often declared to captain Hardy, a radiant orb was suspended before his
mind's eye, which urged him on to renown; and he spoke of these aspi-
rations of his youth, as if they had in them a character of divinity, as
if — «the light which led him on, was light from Heaven». Although
the promotion of Nelson was as rapid as it could be, yet it was much too
slow fur his ardent ambition. He was never happy for a moment, when
not on actual service. In a letter to the Lords of the Admiralty, in 1792,
requesting a ship he adds: «if your Lordships will only be pleased to
appoint me to a cockle boai^ I shall feel grateful ».
After the sieges of Calvi and Bastia, in 17 93, in which Nelson dis-
played military talents which would not have disgraced a general, his
services, by an unpardonable omission, were altogether overlooked; his
name did not even appear in the list of wounded, although he had lost
an eye. «One hundred and ten days», said he: c< I have been actually
engaged at sea and on shore against the enemy; three actions against
— Ii3 —
sliips, two against Bastia in my own ship, four boat actions, two villages
taken, and twelve sail of vessels taken. I do not know tliat any one lias
, done more; I have had the comfort to be always applauded by my own
commander in chief, but never to be rewarded; and, what is more mort-
ifying, for service in which I have been wounded, others have been
praised, who, at the same time, were actually in bed, far from the scene
of action. They have not done me justice; but never mind — I'll have a
gazette of my own». How amply was this second sight of glory realized!
Previous to his attack on Teneriife, after having failed in an attempt
to take it before, he wrote to his commander in chief; «This night I
command the whole force destined to land under the batteries of the
town; and to-morrow my head will probably be crowned either with lau-
rel or cypress*. Perfectly aware how desperate a service this was likely
to prove, he called his son in-law, Lieutenant Nisbet, into his cabin, that
he might assist in arranging and burning his mother's letters. Perceiving
that the young man was armed, he earnestly begged him to remain be-
hind. — «Should we both fall, Josiah», said he, «what will become of
your poor mother? The care of the Theseus falls to you; stay, therefore,
and take care of her». Nisbet replied: «Sir, the ship must take care of
herself. I will go with you to-night, if I never go again".
The boats landed amidst powerful discharges of forty or fifty pieces
of cannon, with musketry from one end of the town to the other. Nelson,
when in the act of stepping out of the boat, received a shot through the
right elbow, and fell; Nisbet, who was close to him, placed him at the
bottom of the boat. He then examined the wound, and taking a silk
handkerchief from his neck, bound it above the lacerated vessels, which
saved his life. One of the bargemen tore his shirt into shreds, and made
a sling for the wounded arm; Nisbet took one of the oars, and collecting
four or five seamen, rowed back towards the vessel. Nelson desired to
be raised up, that he «might look a httle about hiin»; when a general
shriek was heard from the Fux, which had received a shot under water,
and gone down. Ninety seven men sank with her, and eighty three were
saved, many by Nelson himself, whose exertions on this occasion mate-
rially increased the pain and danger of the wound. The first ship which
the boat could reach, happened to be the Seahorse; but nolhing could
induce him to go on board, though he was assured that the attempt to
row to another ship might be at the risk of his life. <l had rather suffer
15
— 114 -
death», said he, «tlian alarm Mrs. Freemantle, by letting her see me in
this state, when I can give her no tidings of her husband ». He was then
rowed alongside the Theseus, and peremptorily refused all assistance in
getting on board: so impatient was he that the boat should return, in
hopes of saving a few more men from the Fox. He desired to have only
a single rope thrown over the side, Avhich he twisted round his left hand.
«Let me alone»! said he, «1 have yet my legs left, and one arm. Tell the
surgeon to get his instruments; I know I must lose my right arm, so the
sooner it is off the better*. .
It was Nelson's practice during a cruise , whenever circumstances
would permit , to have his captains on board , and fully explain to them
his plans. He had done this previous to the battle of the Nile; and when
Capt. Berry , on comprehending the design of doubling on the enemy's
ships, exclaimed with transport: «If we succeed, what will the world
say?» — There is no if in the case» , replied Nelson: «that we shall
succeed is certain: who may live to tell the story is a very different
question ».
In this battle the French had a superiority over the British of one
hundred and eighty four guns , and three thousand and eighty two men;
yet they lost five sail taken , three sail burnt , one driven on shore and
fired, and three frigates. «A victory », said the gallant Nelson, «is not a
word strong enough for such an achievement: it should be called a con-
quest)). From Bonaparte it drew this acknowledgement: "The destinies
have wished to prove by this event , as by all others , that if they have
given us a preponderance on the Continent , Ihey have given the empire
of the sea to our rivals ».
Of all the engagements in which Nelson had been engaged , that oil
Copenhagen was said to have been the most terrible; Avhen it Avas termi-
nated, and Nelson had landed , some difficulty occurred in adjusting the
duration of the armistice. Nelson required sixteen Aveeks , giving like a
seaman the true reason, that he might have time to act against the Russian
fleet and return. This not being acceded to, a hint Avas throAvn out by
one of the Danish commissioners of the renewal of hostilities. «Renew
hostilities" ! said he to one of his friends, for he understood French
enough to comjirehend what was said, though not to answer it in the same
language: «Tell liim we are ready at a moment! Ready to bombard this
\ei'^j Uigul)) !
^ 115 ~
duestions.
1. What was Nelson obliged to do, when eighteen years of age, and why? —
2. What effect had it on his mind, and what did he afterwards say of his feelings
at that time? — 3. What did he often declare to Captain Hardy? — 4. What
words did he add in a letter to the Lords of the Admiralty ?
5. On what occasion were his services altogether overlooked? — 6. What
did he say of it?
7. What did he Avrite to his commander in chief, -previous to his attack on
Teneriffe? — 8. Whom did he call into his cabin, and for what purpose ? —
9, What did he say to Lieutenant Nisbet, and what was Nisbet's answer?
10. What happened to Nelson, when stepping out of the boat, and what
assistance did Nisbet and one of the bargemen give him? — 11. Give an account
of the disaster that happened to the Fox, and of Nelson's noble conduct on the
occasion ?
12. What was Nelson's practice during a cruise? — 13. What did Capt.
Berry exclaim, on comprehending the design of doubling on the enemy's ships,
and what did Nelson reply?
14. What superiority had the French, in this battle, over the British, and
what did they lose?— 15. What did the gallant Nelson say of it? — 16. What
acknowledgement did it draw from Bonaparte ?
17. What is said of Nelson's engagement off Copenhagen? — 18. What
did Nelson require, and what reason did he give for it? — 19, What were his
words, when a hint was thrown out of the renewal of hostilities?
81. The Loss of the Royal George.
The Royal George was a three-decker , a ship of one hundred and
twenty guns , 24 and 31 pounders , with a crew of one thousand men.
The length of her gun-deck was 210 feet, the breadth 56; her main-
mast was 124 feet high, fore-mast 112, mizen-mast 112, and the main
yard one hundred and six feet long. She measured sixty-six feet from the
kelson to the taffrail; and being a flag-ship her lanterns were so big, that
the men used to go into them to clean them.
In August, 1782, the Royal George had come to Spithead. She was
in a very complete state, with hardly any leakage, so that there was no
occasion for the pumps to be touched oftener than once in every three or
four days. By the i9th of August she had got six months' provision on
hoard , and also many tons of shot. The ship had her gallants up, the
blue flag of Admiral Kempenfeldt was flying at the raizen, and the ensign
— 116 —
was hoisted on the eusigii-staff, - and she was in about two days to have
sailed to join the grand fleet in the Mediterranean. It was ascertained that
the water-cock must be taken out, and a new one put in. The water-cock
is something like the tap of a barrel , — it is in the hold of the ship on
the starboard side, and at that part of the ship called the well. By turning
a thing which is inside the ship, the sea-water is let into a cistern in the
hold , and it is from that pumped up to wash the dock. In some ships
the water is drawn up the side in buckets , and there is no water cock.
To get out the old water- cock it was necessary to make the ship heel so
much on her larboard side as to raise theoutsideof this water-cock above
water. This was done at about 8 o'clock on the morning of the 19th of
August. To do this the whole of the guns on the larboard side were run
out so far as they would go , quite to the broasts of the guns , and the
starboard guns drawn in a midship and secured by tackles, two to every
gun , one on each side. This brought the water nearly on a level with
the port-holes of the larboard side, of the lower gundeck. The men were
working at this water-cock on the outside of the ship for nearly an hour,
the ship remaining on one side.
At about 9 o'clock A. M., or rather before, we had just finished our
breakfast, — says the narrator, — and the last lighter, with rum on board,
had come alongside: this vessel was a sloop of about fifty tons, and belonged
to three brothers, who used her to carry things on board the men-of-war.
She was lashed to the larboard side of the Royal George , and we were
piped to clear the lighter, and get the rum out of her , and stow it in the
hold of the Royal George. I was, in the waist of our ship, on the larboard
side, bearing the rum-casks over, as some men of the Royal George were
aboard the sloop to sling them.
At first no danger was apprehended from the ship's being on one side,
although the water kept dashing in at the port- holes at every wave; and
there being mice in the lower part of the ship, which were disturbed by
the water which dashed in, they were hunted in the water by the men,
and there had been a rare game going on. However, by about 9 o'clock
the additional quantity of rum on board the ship, and also the quantity of
sea-water - which had dashed in at the port-holes, brought the larboard
poTt-holes of the lower gun deck nearly level with the sea.
As soon as that was the case, the carpenter went on the quarter deck
to the lieutenant of the watch, to ask him to give orders to right ship,
— 117 —
as the ship could not bear it any longer. However, the lieutenant made
him a very short answer, and the carpenter then went below. The cap-
tain's name was Waghorn. He was on board, but where he was I do not
know; — however, captains, if finy thing is to be done when the ship is
in harbour, seldom interfere, but leave it all to the officer of the watch.
The lieutenant was, if I remember right, the third lieutenant; he had not
joined us long; his name 1 do not recollect; he was a good-sized man,
between thirty and forty years of age.' The men called him «Jib-and-
Foresail - Jack », for, if he had the watch in the night, he would be always
bothering the men to alter the sails, and it was «up jib», and «down
jib», and «up foresail>> and u down foresail*, every minute. However,
the men considered him more of a troublesome officer than a good one;
and, from a habit he had of moving his fingers about when walking the
quarter-deck, the men said he was an organ-player from London, but I
have no reason to suppose that that was the case. The admiral was either
in the cabin or in his steerage, I do not know which; and the barber,
who had'been to shave him, had just left. The admiral was a man up-
wards of seventy years of age; he was a thin tall man who stooped a
good deal.
As I have already stated, the carpenter left the quarter-deck and went
below. In a very short time he came up again, and asked the lieutenant
of the watch to right the ship, and said again that the ship could not
bear it; but the lieutenant replied: aD— ye, sir, if you can manage the
ship better than I can, you had better take the command*. Myself and a
good many more were at the waist of the ship and at the gangways, and
heard what passed, and as we knew the danger, we began to feel aggrieved;
for there were some capital seamen on board, who knew what they
were about quite as well as the officers.
In a very short time, a minute or two I should think, the lieutenant
ordered the drummer to be called to beat to right ship. The drummer
was called in a moment, and the ship was then just beginning to sink.
I jumped off the gangway as soon as the drummer was called. There
was no time for him to beat his drums, and I don't know that he had
even time to get it. I ran down to my station, and by the time I had
got there, the men were tumbling down the hatchways one over another
to get to their stations as soon as possible to right ship. My station was
at the third gun from the head of the ship on the starboard side of the
— 118 —
lower gun -deck, close by where the cable passes, indeed it was just abaft
the bight of the cable. I said to the lieutenant of our gun, whose name
was Carrel, for every gun has a captain and a lieutenant (though they
are only sailors): «Let us try to bouse our gun out without waiting for
the drum, as it will help to right ship». We pushed the gun, but it ran
back upon us. and we could not start it. The water then rushed in at
nearly all the port-holes of the larboard side of the lower gun-deck, and
1 directly said to Carrel: «Ned, lay hold of the ring bolt, and Jump out
at the porthole; the ship is sinking, and we shall all be drowned*. He
laid hold of the ring bolt, and jumped out at the port-hole into the sea:
I believe he was drowned, for I never saw him afterwards. I immediately
got out at the same port -hole, which was the third from the
head of the ship on the starhord side of the lower gun -deck, and when
I had done so, I saw the port hole as full of heads as it could cram, all
trying to get out. I caught hold of the best bower-anchor, which was
just above me, to prevent my falling back again into the port-hole, and
seized hold of a woman who was trying to get out at the same place, —
I dragged her out. The ship was full of Jews, w^omen, and people selling
all sorts of things. I threw the woman from me, — and saw all the heads
drop back again in at the port-hole; for the ship had got so much on
her larboard side, that the starboard port-holes were as upright as if the
men had tried to get out at the top of a chimney with nothing for their
legs and feet to act upon. I threw the woman from me, and just the
moment ,after the air that was between decks drafted out at the port-
holes very quickly. It was quite a huff of wind, and it blew my hat off,
for I had all my clothes on, including my hat. The ship then sank in a
moment. I tried to swim, but I could not swim a stroke, although I
plunged as hard as I could with both hands and feet. The sinking of the
ship drew me down, — indeed I think I must have gone down within a
yard as Ioav as the ship did. When the ship touched the bottom, the
water boiled up a great deal, and 1 felt that I could swim.
When I was about half way up to the top of the water, I put my right
hand on the head of a man that was nearly exhausted. He Avore long hair,
as many of the men at Ihat time did; he tried to grapple me, and he
put his four fingers into my right shoe alongside the outer edge of my
foot. I succeeded in kicking my shoe off, and, putting my hand on his
shoulder, i shoved him away, — 1 then rose to the surface of the water.
— 119 —
At tho time the ship was sinking, (here was a barrel of tar on tlie
starboard side of her deck, and that had rolled to the larboard and staved
as the ship went down; and when 1 rose to the top of the water, the tar
was floating like fat on the top of a boiler. I got the tar about my hair
and face, but I struck it away as well as I could, and when my head
became above water, I heard the cannon ashore firing for distress. I
looked about me, and at the distance of eight or ten yards from me, I
saw the main-topsail-halyard-block above water; — the water was about
thirteen fathoms deep, and at that time the tide was coming in. I swam
to the maiu-topsail-halyard-block, got on it, and sat upon it, and there
I rode. The fore, main, and mizen tops were all above water, as were
part of the bowsprit and part of the ensign staff, with the ensign upon it.
Ill going down, the main-yard of the Royal George caught the boom
of the rum-lighter and sunk her, and there is no doubt that this made
the Royal George more upright in the water when sunk than she other-
wise would have been, as she did not lie much more on her beam- ends
than small vessels often do when left dry on a bank of mud.
When I got on the main-topsail-halyard-block I saw the admiral's
baker in the shrouds of the mizen-topmast, and directly after that the
woman whom I had pulled out of the port-hole came rolling by. I said
to the baker, who was an Irishman named Robert Cleary: «Bob, reach
out your hand and catch hold of that woman; — that is the woman I
pulled out at the port-hole. I dare say she is not dead». He said: «I
dare say she is dead enough; it is of no use to catch hold of her*. I
replied, «I dare say she is not dead". He caught hold of the woman and
hung her head over one of the ratlins of the mizen -shrouds, and there she
hung by her chin, which was hitched over the ratlin; but a surf came
and knocked her backwards, and away she went rolling over and over.
A captain of a frigate which was lying at Spithead came up in a boat as
fast as he could. I dashed out my left hand in a direction towards the
woman as a sign to him. He saw it, and saw the woman. His men left
off rowing, and they pulled the woman aboard their boat, and laid her on
one of the thwarts. The captain of the frigate called out to me: «BIy
man, I must take care of those that are in more danger than you». I
said: «I am safely moored now, Sir».
There was a seaman, named Ilibbs, lianging by his two hands from
the main-stay; and as he hung there, the sea washed over him every
— . 120 —
now and then as much as a yard deep over his head; and when he saw
it coining he roared out: however, he was but a fool for that; for if he
had kept himself quiet, he would not have wasted his strength, and would
have been able to take the chance of holding on so much the longer. The
captain of tlie frigate had his boat rowed to the main-stay; but they got
the stay over part of the head of the boat, and were in great danger be-
fore they got Hibbs on board. The captain of the frigate got then all the
men that were in the different parts of the rigging, including myself and
the baker, into his boat,, and took us on board the Victory, where the doc-
tors recovered the woman; but she was very ill for three or four days.
On board the Victory I saw the body of the carpenter, lying on the hearth
before the galley fire; some women were trying to recover him, but he
was quite dead.
The captain of the Royal George, who could not swim, was picked
up and saved by one of our seamen. The lieutenant of the watch — who
was the principal cause of the misfortune — I believe was drowned.
The number of persons who lost their lives I cannot state with any degree
of accuracy, because of there being so many Jews, women and other
persons on board, who did not belong to the ship. The complement of
the ship was nominally 1000 men, but it was not quite full. Some were
ashore, and sixty marines had gone ashore that morning.
The government allowed L5 each of the seamen who were on board,
and not droAvned, for the loss of their things. 1 saw the list, and there
were only seventy-five. A vast number of the best men were in the hold
stowing away the rum casks: they must all have perished, and so must
many of the-men who were slinging the casks in the sloop. Two of the
three brothers belonging to the sloop perished, the other was saved. I
have no doubt that the men caught hold of each other, forty or fifty to-
gether, and drowned one another — those who could not swim catching
hold of those who could; and there is also little doubt that as many got
into the launch as could cram into her, hoping to save themselves in
that way, and went down in her altogether.
In a few" days after the Royal George sunk, dead bodies would come
up, thirty or forty nearly at a time. Nothing was more frightful than,
when at a little distance, when the moon shed her tender beams over
the placid water, where so many brave men had lost their. lives, to see
the heads popping up from under the water. A body would sometimes
. --121 —
rise up so suddenly as to make one's hair stand on end. The watermen,
there is no doubt, made a good business of it: they took from the bodies
of the men their buckles, money and watches, and then made fast a rope
to their heels, and towed them to land.
The water- cock ought to have been put to rights before the great
quantity of shot was put on board; but if the lieutenant of the watch had
given the order to right ship a couple of minutes earlier, when the car-
penter first spoke to him, nothing amiss would have happened; as three
or four men at each tackle of the starboard guns would very soon have
boused the guns all out and righted the ship. At the time this happened,
the Royal George was anchored by two anchors from the head. The wind
was rather from the north-west, — not much of it, — only a bit of a
breeze; and there was no sudden gust or puff of wind, which made her
heel just before she sunk; it was the weight of metal, and the water
which had dashed in through the port-holes, which sunk her, and not
the effect of wind upon her. Indeed, I do not recollect that she had even
what is called a stitch of canvass, to keep her head steady as she lay at
anchor.
I am now seventy-five years of age, and was about twenty-four when
this happened.
The foregoing curious and highly interesting narrative has been com-
municated by Mr. James Ingram^ who was on board at the time the
Royal George sunk. We have considered it better to give it in his own
simple language, as affording a more graphic description of this extra-
ordinary and melancholy catastrophe than more beautiful language could
do. At the same time it may serve the young reader as an exercise in
sea terms. J. S. S. Rothwell.
The following interesting lines have been written on the above
unhappy event, by which 800 souls, with the unfortunate Admiral Kem-
penfeldt, perished:
«Toll for the brave !
The brave that are no more,
All sunk beneath the wave
Fast by their native shore.
16
— 1^2 --
•(Eight hundred of the brave,
Whose courage well was tried.
Had made the vessel heel,
And laid her on her side.
'<A land breeze shook the shrouds, ,
And she was overset;
Down went the Royal George
With all her crew complete.
((Toll for the brave!
Brave Kempenfeldt is gone}
His last sea fight is fought^
His work of glory done. ■
«It was not in the battle;
No tempest gave the shock:
She sprang no fatal leak}
She ran upon no rock.
(I His sword was in his sheath,
' His fingers held the pen.
When Kempenfeld went down
With twice four hundred men.
((Weigh the vessel up,
Once dreaded by our foes}
And mingle with our cup
The teisr that England owes.
vHer timbers yet are sound.
And she may float again,
Full charged with distant thunder,
And plough the distant main.
«But Kempenfeldt is gone}
His victories are o'er}
And he and his eight hundred
Shall plough the wave no more-. —
Co wper.
duestions.
1 . What was the length and breadth of the Royal George , and what the
height of her masts'** — 2. AVhere was the Royal George to have sailed to? —
3. What was ascertained'^ — 4. What was necessary to be done to get out the
old water-cock'^ — 5. What was not apprehended atlirst? — 6. What were in the
lower part of the ship? — 7. AVhat did the carpenter do? — 8. What sort of
an answer did he get'v' — 9. What was tlie Lieutenant called, and why'< — 10.
— 123 -
What did the men say he was? — 11. AVhere Avas the Admiral, what was his
name, and what sort of man was he? — 12. What orders did the Lieut, give
respecting the drummer, and what followed*" — 13. Where did the water rush
in, and what did the narrator say to Carrell? — 14. What did the narrator see
on getting out of the port-hole? — 15. Of what was the ship full? — 16. What
did narrator do with the woman? — 17. As the ship sank, what did the narra-
tor try to do? — 18. When he was about half way to the top of the water,
what did he do? — 10. When his head came above water, what did he hear
and see? — 20. How deep was the water? — 21. What did the Royal George
do in going down? — 22. What did the Admiral's baker do with the woman,
and what happened to her afterwards? — 23. Who came in a boat? — 24.
Where was the seaman named Hibbs, and what did he do? — 25. Whom did
the narrfftor see on board the Victory^ — 26. What can he not state? — 27.
What was the complement of the ship?— 28. What did the government allow?
— 29. Of what has the narrator no doubt? — 30. What would come up a few
days after the Royal George sunk? - 31. What should have been done before
the shot was put on board?
82. Anecdotes of Discoveries.
The love of knowledge will itself do a great deal towards its acqui-
sition; and if it exist with that force and constancy which it exhibits in
the characters of all truly great men, it will induce that ardent, but
humble spirit of observation and inquiry, without Avhich there can be no
success. Sir Isaac Newton, of all men that ever lived, is the one who
has most extended the territory of human knoAvledge; and he used to
speak of himself as having been all his life but «a child gathering pebbles
on the seashore » — probably meaning by that allusion, not only to ex-
press his modest conviction how mere an outskirt the field of his disco-
veries was, compared with the vastness of universal nature, but to de-
scribe likewise the spirit in which he had pursued his investigations.
That was a spirit, not of selection and system building, but of childlike
alacrity, in seizing upon whatever contributions of knowledge Nature
threw at his feet, and of submission to all intimations of observation and
experiment. On some occasions, he was wont to say, that, if there was
any mental habit or endowment in which he excelled the generality of
men, it was that of patience in the examination of the facts and pheno-
mena of his subject. This was merely another specimen of that teach-
ableness which constitutes the character of a wise man. He loved Truth,
and wooed her with the unwearying ardour of a lover. Other speculators
had consulted the book of nature principally for the purpose of seeking
in it the defence of some favourite theory; partially, therefore, and hastily,
as one would consult a dictionary : Newton perused it as a volume
altogether worthy of being studied for its own sake. Hence proceeded
both the patience with which he traced its characters, and the rich and
plentiful discoveries with which the search rewarded him. It is, indeed,
most instructive to all who are anxious to engage in the pursuit of know-
ledge, (and is therefore properly introductory to the general subject we
are about to treat), to consider the manner in which bolh this great man
and many others, possessing a portion of his observant and inventive
genius, have availed themselves, for the enlargement of the boundaries
of philosophy, of such common occurrences as, from their very common-
ness, had escaped the attention of all less active and original minds. "
From one of these simple incidents did Sir Isaac Newton give to the
world, for the first time, the system of the universe. It was in the
twenty third year of his age, that this extraordinary man was sitting,
as we are told, one day in his garden, when an apple fell from a tree
beside him. His mind was perhaps occupied, at that fortunate moment,
in one of those philosophical speculations on space and motion, which
are known to have, about this time, engaged much of his attention; and
the little incident, which interrupted him, was instantly seized upon by
his active spirit, and, by that power which is in genius, assimilated with
thought. The existence of gravitation, or a tendency towards the centre
of the, earth, was already known, as affecting all bodies in the imme-
diate vicinity of our planet; and the great Galileo had even ascertained
the law, or rate, according to which their motion is accelerated, as they
continue their descent. But no one had yet dreamed of the gravitation of
the heavens, — till the idea now first dimly rose in the mind of Newton.
The same power, he said to himself, which has drawn this apple from
its branch, would have drawn it from a position a thousand times as
high. Wherever we go, we find this gravitation reigning over all things.
If we ascend even to the tops of the highest mountains, we discover no
sensible diminution of its power. Why may not its influence extend far
beyond any height, to which we can make our way? Why may it not
reach to the moon itself? Why may not this be the very power which
- 125 —
retains that planet in its orbit,- and keeps it revolving as it does around
our own earth? It was a splendid conjecture, and we may be sure, that
Newton instantly set all his sagacity at work to verify it.
Another very beautiful example, in the way in which some of the
most valuable truths of philosophy have been suggested for the first time,
by the simplest incidents of common life, is afforded by Galileo's disco-
very of the regularity of oscillation in the pendulum. It was while stand-
ing one day in the metropolitan church of Pisa, that his attention was
first awakened to this important fact, by observing the movements of a
lamp suspended from the ceiling, which some accident had disturbed and
caused to vibrate. Now this or something exactly similar, was a pheno-
menon which, of course, every one had observed thousands of times be-
fore. But yet nobody had ever viewed it with the philosophic attention,
with which it was on this occasion examined by Galileo. Or if, as possi-
bly was the case, any one had been half unconsciously struck for a mo-
ment by that apparent equability of motion, which arrested so forcibly the
curiosity of Galileo, the idea had been allowed to escape the instant it
had been caught, as relating to a matter not worth a second thought. The
young philosopher of Italy (for he had not then reached the twentieth
year) saw at once the important application which might be made of the
thought that had suggested itself to him. He took care, therefore, to as-
certain immediately the truth of his conjecture, by careful and repeated
experiment, and the result was the complete discovery of the principle
of the most perfect measure of time which we yet possess.
Another example which may be given, is that of the famous Prince
Rupert's supposed discovery of the mode of engraving, called mezzotinto,
which is said to have been suggested to him by observing a soldier, one
morning, rubbing off from the barrel of his musket the rust which it had
contracted from being exposed to the night dew. The prince perceived,
on examination, that the dew had left on the surface of the steel a collec-
tion of very minute holes, so as to form the resemblance of a dark en-
graving, part of which had been here and there already rubbed away by
the soldier. He immediately conceived the idea that it would be practi-
cable to find a way of covering a plate of copper in the same manner
with little holes. Pursuing this thought, he at last after a variety of ex-
periments, invented a species of steel roller, covered with points or sa-
lient teeth, which being pressed against the copper plate, indented it iu
, . ■ - 126 ^
the manner he wished; and the roughness thus occasioned had only to be
scraped down, where necessary, in order to produce any gradation of
shade that might be desired.
The celebrated modern invention of the balloon is said to have had
an origin still more simple. According to some authorities, the idea was
first suggested to Stephen Montgolfier, one of the two brothers to whom
we owe the contrivance, by the waving of a linen shirt, which was hang-
ing before the fire, in the warm and ascending air. Others tell us, that
it was his brother Joseph who first thought of it, on perceiving the smoke
ascending his chimney one day during the memorable siege of Gibraltar,
as he was sitting alone, musing on the possibility of penetrating into the
place, to which his attention had been called at the moment by a picture
of it, on which he had accidentally cast his eyes. It is known, however,
that the two brothers had, before this, studied and made themselves fa-
miliar with Priestley's work on the different kinds of air; and it is even
said, that Stephen had conceived the idea of navigating the heavens, by
the employment of a gas lighter than common atmospheric air, on his
way home from Montpelier, where he had purchased that book. Newton,
too, is well known to have been indebted for the first hint of certain of
his great optical discoveries to the child's amusement of blowing bubbles
out of soap; and as I)r. Pemberton has ingeniously observed, in his ac-
count of that great man's philosophy, «it is suitable to this mode of
thinking that he has, in his «Observations on Daniel», made a very cu-
rious as well as useful remark, that our Saviour's precepts were all occa-
sioned by some ordinary circumstance of things then especially before
him». — The year 1815 is rendered memorable by the discovery of the
safety lamp, one of the most beneficial applications of science to econom-
ical purposes yet made, by which hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lives
have been preserved. Davy was led to the consideration of this subject
by an application from Dr. Gray, the chairman of a society established
in 1813, at Bishop Wearmouth, to consider and promote the means of
preventing accidents by fire in coal pits. Being then in Scotland, he vis-
ited the mines on his return southward, and was supplied with speci-
mens of fire damp, which, on reaching London, he proceeded to examine
and analyze. He soon discovered that the carbonated hydrogen gas, called
fire damp by the miners, would not explode when mixed with less than
six, or more than fourteen times its volume of air; and further, that the
- 12? -
explosive mixture could not be fired in tubes of small diameters and pro-
portionate lengths.
Gradually diminishing these, he arrived at the conclusion, that a tis-
sue of wire, in which the meshes do not exceed a certain small diame-
ter, which may be considered as the ultimate limit of a series of such
tubes, is impervious to the inflamed air; and that a lamp, covered with
such tissue, may be used with perfect safety even in an explosive mix-
ture, which takes fire, and burns within the cage, securely cut off from
the power of doing harm. Thus when the atmosphere is so impure that
the flame of the lamp itself cannot be maintained, the Davy still supplies
light to the miner, and turns his worst enemy into an obedient servant.
This invention, the certain source of large profit, he presented with cha-
racteristic liberality to the public. The words are preserved in which,
when pressed to secure himself the benefit of it by a patent, he declined
to do so: «I have enough for all m) views and purposes, more wealth
might be troublesome, and distract my attention from those pursuits in
which I delight*.
Ouestions,
I. What will the love of knowledge itself do, and what, if it exist with that
force and constancy which it exhibits in the characters of all truly great men? —
2. Who has most extended the territory of human knowledge, and what did he
say of himself^ — 3. What was he wont to say, on some occasions? — 4. For
what purpose had other speculators consulted the book of nature, and how did
Newton peruse it? — 5. What is most instructive to all who are anxious to
engage in the pursuit of knowledge?
6. What happened, when Sir Isaac Newton was sitting one day in his gar-
den, and what effect did it produce on his mind? — 7. What was already known,
and what law had the great Galileo ascertained^ — 8 . What did Newton say to
himself?
9. On what occasion was Galileo's attention first awakened to the discovery
of the regularity of oscillation in the pendulum? — 10. What did the young
philosopher of Italy at once see, and what was the result of his careful and re-
peated experiment?
II. What other example may be given, and how is it said to have been
suggested to Prince Rupert? — 12. What did the prince perceive, on examina-
tion, and what idea did he immediately conceive? — 13, What did he at last
invent?
-in -
1 4 . What is said of the origin of the invention of the balloon? — 15. What
work had the two brothers studied before this, and what is Stephen said to have
conceived? — 16. To what has Newton been indebted for certain of his great
discoveries, and what has Dr. Pemberton ingeniously observed? — 17. By what
is the year 1815 rendered memorable? — 18. Give an account of Davy's in-
vention? — 19. What were his words, when pressed to secure himself the ben-
efit of it by a patent?
»
129 —
Historical Extracts.
1. Aucient England and the Romans.
If you look at a Blap of the World, you will see, in the left-hand
upper corner of the Eastern Hemisphere, two islands lying in the sea.
They are England and Scotland, and Ireland; England and Scotland form
the greater part of these Islands, Ireland is the next in size. The little
neighbouring islands which are so small upon the Map as to be mere
dots, are chiefly little bits of Scotland — broken off, I dare say, in the
course of a great length of time, by the power of the restless water.
In the old days, a long, long while ago, before Our Saviour was born
on earth and lay asleep in a manger, these Islands were in the same place,
and the stormy sea roared round them, just as it roars now. But the sea
was not alive, then, with great ships and brave sailors, sailing to and
from all parts of the world. It was very lanely. The Islands lay solitary,
in the great expanse of water. The foaming waves dashed against their
cliffs, and the bleak winds blew over their forests; but the winds and
waves brought no adventurers to land upon the Islands, and the savage
Islanders knew nothing of the rest of the world, and the rest of the world
kneAV nothing of them.
It is supposed that the Phoenicians, who were an ancient people fa-
mous for carrying on trade, came in ships to these Islands, and found
that they produced tin and lead; both very useful things, as you know,
and both produced to this very hour upon the sea-coast. The most cele-
brated tin mines in Cornwall are, still, close to the sea. One of them,
which I have seen, is so close to it that it is hollowed out underneath
the ocean; and the miners say that in stormy weather, when they are
at work down in that deep place, they can hear the noise of the waves
thundering above their heads. So, the Phoenicians, coasting about the
Islands, would come, without much difficulty, to where the tin aud lead
were.
The Phoenicians traded with the Islandersfor these metals, and gave
the Islanders some other useful things in the exchange. The Islanders
were, at first, poor savages, going almost naked or only dressed in the
17
-^ 130 -^
rough skins of beasts, and staining their bodies, as other savages do,
with coloured earths and the juices of plants. But the Phoenicians, sailing
over to the opposite coasts of France and Belgium, and saying to the
people there, «We have been to these white cliffs across the water, which
you can see in fine weather, and from that country, which is called
Britain, we bring this tin and lead,» tempted some of the French and
Belgians to come over also. These people settled themselves on the south
coast of England, which is now called Kent; and, although they were a
rough people too, they taught the savage Britons some useful arts, and
improved that part of the Islands. It is probable that other people came
over from Spain to Ireland, and settled there.
Thus, by little and little, strangers became mixed with the Islanders,
and the savage Britons grew into a wild bold people, almost savage, still,
especially in the interior of the country away from the sea where the for-
eign settlers seldom went; but hardy, brave, and strong.
The whole country was covered with forests and swamps. The great-
er part of it was very misty and cold. There were no roads, no bridges,
no streets, no houses that you would think deserving of the name. A
town was nothing but a collection of straw-covered huts, hidden in thick
wood, with a ditch all round, and a low wall, made of mud, or the
trunks of trees placed one upon another. The people planted little or no
corn, but lived upon the flesh of their flocks and cattle. They made no
coins, but used metal rings for money. They were clever in basket-work,
as savage people often are; and they could make a coarse kind of cloth,
and some very bad earthenware. But in building fortresses they were
much more clever.
They made boats of basket-work, covered with the skins of animals,
but seldom, if ever, ventured far from the shore. They made swords, of
cupper mixed with tin; but these swords were of an awkward shape, and
so soft that a heavy blow would bend one. They made light shields,
short pointed daggers, and spears — which they jerked back after they had
thrown them at an enemy, by along strip of leather fastened to the stem.
The butt-end was a rattle to frighten an enemy's horse. The ancient
Britons, being divided into as many as thirty or forty tribes, each com-
manded by its own little King, were constantly lighting with one another,
as savage people usually do; and they always fought with these weap-
ons.
— 131 —
They were very fund of horses. The stciudard of Keut was the picture
of a white horse. They could break them in and manage them wonder-
fully well. Indeed, the horses (of which they had an abundance, though
they were rather small) were so well taught in those days that they can
scarcely be said to have improved since ; though the men are so much
wiser. They understood and obeyed every word of command; and would
stand still by themselves, in all the din and noise of battle, while their
masters went to fight on foot. The Britons could not have succeeded in
their most remarkable art, without the aid of these sensible and trusty
animals. The art I mean, is the construction and management of war-
chariots or cars, for which they have ever been celebrated in history.
Each of the best sort of these chariots, not quite breast high in front,
and open at the back, contained one man to drive, and two or three others
to fight — all standing up. The horses who drew them were so well
trained, that they would tear, at full gallop, over the most stony ways,
and even through the woods; dashing down their masters' enemies be-
neath their hoofs, and cutting them to pieces with the blades of swords,
or scythes, which were fastened to the wheels, and stretched out beyond
the car on each side, for that cruel purpose. In a moment, while at full
speed, the horses would stop, at the driver's command, the men within
would leap out, deal blows about them with their swords like hail, leap
on the horses, on the pole, spring back into the chariots anyhow; and,
as soon as they were safe, the horses tore away again.
The Britons had a strange and terrible religion, called the Religion
of the Druids. It seems to have been, brought over, in very early times
indeed, from the opposite country of France, anciently called Gaul, and
to have mixed up the worship of the Serpent, and of the Sun and Moon,
with the worship of some of the Heathen Gods and Goddesses, Most of
its ceremonies were kept secret by the priests, the Druids, who pretended
to be enchanters, and who carried magicians' wands, and wore, each of
them, about his neck, what he told ignorant people was a Serpent's egg
in a golden case. But it is certain that the Druidical ceremonies included
the sacrifice of human victims, the torture of some suspected criminals,
and, on particular occasions, even the burning alive, in immense wicker
cages, of a number of men and animals together, The Druid Priests had
some kind of veneration for the Oak, and for the miseltoe — the same
plant that we hang up in houses at Christmas Time now— when its white
— 132 —
berries grew upon the Oak. They met together in dark woods, which
they called Sacred Groves; and there they instructed, in their mysterious
arts, young men who came to them as pupils, and who sometimes stayed
with them as long as twenty years.
These Druids built great Temples and altars, open to the sky, of
which some are yet remaining. Stonehenge, on Salisbury plain in Wilt-
shire, is the most extraordinary of these. Three curious stones, called
Kits Coty House, on Bluebell Hill, near Maidstone in Rent, form another.
We know, from examinaliou^f the great blocks of which such buildings,
are made, that they could not have been raised without the aid of some
ingenious machines, which are common now, but which the ancient Brit-
ons certainly did not use in making their own uncomfortable houses.
I should not wonder if the Druids, and their pupils who stayed twenty
years, knowing more than the rest of the Britons, kept the people out of
sight while they made these buildings, and then pretended that they built
them by magic. Perhaps they had a hand in these fortresses too; at all
events, as they were very powerful, and very much believed in, and as
they made and executed the laws, and paid no taxes, I don't wonder that
they liked their trade. And, as they persuaded the people that the more
Druids there were, the better off the people would be, I don't wonder
that there were a good many of them. But it is pleasant to think that
there are no Druids now, who go on in that way, and pretend to carry
Enchanters' Wands and Serpents' Eggs— and of course there is nothing of
the kind any where.
Such was the improved condition of the ancient Britons, fifty-five
years before the birth of Our Saviour, when the Romans, under their
great General, Julius Caesar, were masters of all the rest of the known
world. Julius Caesar had then just conquered Gaul; and hearing, in Gaul,
a good deal about the opposite Islands with the white cliffs, and about
the bravery of the Britons who inhabited it — some of whom had been
fetched over to help the Gauls in the war against him — he resolved, as
he was so near, to come and conquer Britain next.
So, Julius Caesar came sailing over to this Island of ours, with eighty
vessels and twelve thousand men. And he came from the French coast
between Calais and Boulogne, « because thence was the shortest passage
into Britain;* just for the same reason as our steamboats now take the
same track, every day. He expected to conquer Britain easily: but it
— 133 —
was not such easy work as he supposed — for the bold Britons fought
most bravely; and, what with not having his horse-soldiers with him (for
they had been driven back by a storm), and what with having some of
his vessels dashed to pieces by a high tide after they were drawn ashore,
he ran great risk of being totally defeated. However, for once that the
bold Britons beat him, he beat them twice; though not so soundly but
that he was very glad to accept their proposals of peace, and go away.
But in the spring of the next year, he came back; this time, with
eight hundred vessels and thirty thousand men. The British tribes chose,
as their general-in-chief, a Briton, whom the Romans in their Latin lan-
guage called Cassivellaunus, but whose British name is supposed to have
been Caswallon. A brave general he was, and well he and his soldiers
fought the Roman army! So well, that whenever in that war the Roman
soldiers saw a great cloud of dust, and heard the rattle of the rapid Brit-
ish chariots, they trembled in their hearts. Besides a number of smaller
battles, there was a battle fought near Cherstey, in Surrey; there was a
battle fought near a marshy little town in a wood, the capital of that
part of Britain, which belonged to Cassivellaunus, and which was pro-
bably near what is now Saint Albans, in Hertfordshire, However, brave
Cassivellaunus had the worst of it, on the whole; though he and his men
always fought like lions. As the other British chiefs were jealous of him,
and were always quarrelling with him, and with one another, he gave
up, and proposed peace. Julius Caesar was very glad to grant peace easily,
and to go away again with all his remaining ships and men. He had
expected to find pearls in Britain, and he may have found a few for any-
thing I know; but, at all events, he found delicious oysters, and I am sure
he found tough Britons — of whom, I dare say, he made the same com-
plaint as Napoleon Bonaparte, the great French general, did eighteen
hundred years afterwards, when he said they were such unreasonable
fellows that they never knew when they were beaten. They never did
know, I believe, and never will.
Nearly a hundred years passed on, and all that time there was peace
in Britain. The Britons improved their towns and mode of life: became
more civilised, travelled, and learnt a great deal from the Gauls and Ro-
mans. At last, the Roman Emperor Claudius sent Apulius Plautius, a
skilful general, with a mighty force, to subdue the Island, and shortly
afterwards arrived himself. They did little; and Ostorius Capula, another
— 134 —
general, came. Some of the British Chiefs of Trihes submitted. Others
resolved to fight to the death. Of these brave men, the bravest was Ca-
ractacus, or Caradoc, who gave battle to the Romans, with his army,
among the mountains of North Wales. «This day,» said he to his sol-
diers, «decides the fate of Britain! Your liberty, or your eternal slavery,
dates from this hour. Remember your brave ancestors who drove the
great Caesar himself across the sea.)) On hearing these words, his men,
with a great shout, rushed upon the Romans. But the strong Roman
swords and armour were too much for the weaker British weapons in
close conflict. The Britons lost the day. The wife and daughter of the
brave Caractacus were taken prisoners; his brothers delivered themselves
up; he himself was betrayed into the hands of the Romans by his false
and base stepmother; and they carried him, and all his family, in triumph
to Rome.
But a great man will be great in misfortune, great in prison, great
in chains. His noble air, and dignified endurance of distress, so touched
the Roman people who thronged the streets to see him, that he and his
family were restored to freedom. No one knows whether his great heart
broke, and he died in Rome, or whether he ever returned to his own
dear country. English oaks have grown up from acorns, and withered
away, when they were hundreds of years old — and other oaks have sprung
up in their places, and died too very aged — since the rest of the history
of the brave Caractacus was forgotten.
Still, the Britons would not yield. They rose again and again, and
died by thousands, SAVord in hand. They rose on every possible occasion.
Suetonius, another Roman general, came, and stormed the Island of An-
glesey (then called Mona) which was supposed to be sacred, and he burnt
the Druids in their own wicker cages, by their own fire. But, even while
he was in Britain with his victorious troops, the Britons rose. Because
Boadicea, a British queen, the Avidow of the King of the Norfolk and Suf-
folk people, resisted the plundering of her property by the Romans who
were settled in England; she was scourged by order of Catus, a Roman
officer, and her two daughters were shamefully insulted in her presence,
and her husband's relations were made slaves. To avenge this injury, the
Britons rose, with all their might and rage. They drove Catus into Gaul;
they laid the Roman possessions waste ; they forced the Romans out of
London, then a poor little town, but a trading place; they hanged, burnt,
- 135 —
crucified, and slew by the sword, seventy thousand Romans in a few
days. Suetonius strengthened his army, and advanced to give them battle.
They strengthened their army, and desperately attaclted his, on the field
where it was strongly posted. Before the first charge of the Britons was
made, Boadicea, in a war-chariot, with her hair streaming in the wind,
and her injured daughters lying at her feet, drove among the troops, and
cried to them for vengeance on their oppressors, the licentious Romans.
The Britons fought to the last; but they were vanquished with great
slaughter, and the unhappy queen took poison.
Still, the spirit of the Britons was not broken. When Suetonius left
the country, they fell upon his troops, and retook the Island of Anglesey.
The Emperor Agricola came, fifteen or twenty years afterwards, and re-
took it once more, and devoted seven years to subduing the country,
especially that part of it which is now called Scotland; but its people,
the Caledonians, resisted him at every inch of ground. They fought the
blodiest battles with him; they killed their very wives and children, to
prevent his making prisoners of them; they fell, fighting, in such great
numbers that certain hills in Scotland are yet supposed to be vast heaps
of stones piled up above their graves. The Emperor Hadrian came, thirty
years afterwards, and still they resisted him. The Emperor Severus came,
nearly a hundred years afterwards, and they worried his great army like
dogs, rejoiced to see them die by thousands in the bogs and swamps.
Caracalla, the son and successor of Severus, did the most to conquer
them, for a time; but not by force of arms. He knew how little that
would do. He yielded up a quantity of land to the Caledonians, and gave
the Britons the same privileges as the Romans possessed. There was
peace, after this, for seventy years.
Then new enemies arose. They were the Saxons, a fierce, seafaring
people from the countries to the North of the Rhine, the great river of
Germany, on the banks of which the best grapes grow to make the Ger-
man wine. They began to come, in pirate ships, to the sea coast of Gaul
aud Britain, and to plunder them. They were repulsed by Carausius, a
native either of Belgium or of Britain, who was appointed by the Romans
to the command, and under whom the Britons first began to fight upon
the sea. But after his time they renewed their ravages. A few years
more, and the Scots (which was then the name for the people of Ireland),
and the Picts, a northern people, began to make Irequeut plundering in-
- 1S6 —
cursions into the South of Britain. All these attacks were repeated, at
intervals , during two hundred years , and through a long succession of
Roman Emperors and chiefs; during all which length of time, the Britons
rose against the Romans, over and over again. At last, in the days of the
Roman Emperor Honorius, Avheu the Roman power all over the world
was fast declining, and when Rome wanted all her soldiers at home, the
Romans abandoned all hope of conquering Britain, and went away. And
still at last, as at first, the Britons rose against them, in their old brave
manner; for, a very little while before, they had turned away the Roman
magistrates, and declared themselves an independent people.
Five hundred years had passed, since Julius Caesar's first invasion
of the Island, when the Romans departed from it for ever. In the course
of that time, although they had been the cause of terrible fighting and
bloodshed, they had done much to improve the condition of the Britons.
They had made great military roads; they had built forts; they had taught
them how to dress, and arm themselves, much belter than they had ever
known how to do before; they had refined the whole British way of liv-
ing. Agricola had built a great wall of earth, more than seventy miles
long, extending from Newcastle to beyond Carlisle, for the purpose of
keeping out the Picts and Scots; Hadrian had strengthened it; Severus,
finding it much in want of repair, had built it afresh of stone. Above
all, it was in the Roman time, and by means of Roman ships, that the
Christian Religion was first brought into Britain , and its people first
taught the great lesson that, to be good in the sight of God, they must
love their neighbours as themselves, and do unto others as they would
be done by. The Druids declared it was very wicked to believe any such
thing, and cursed all the people who did believe it, very heartily. But
when the people found that they were none the better for the blessings
of the Druids, and none the worse for the curses of the Druids, but thai
the sun shone and the rain fell without consulting the Druids at all, they
just began to think that the Druids were mere men, and that it signified
very little whether they cursed or blessed. After which, the pupils of
the Druids fell off greatly in numbers, and the Druids took to other
trades.
Thus I have come to the end of the Roman time in England. It is
but little that is known of those five hundred years; but some remains of
them are still found. Often, when labourers are digging up the ground,
— 137 ~
to make foundations for houses or churches, they light on rusty money
that once belonged to the Romans. Fragments of plates from which they
ate, of goblets from which they drank, and of pavement on which they
trod, are discovered among the earth that is broken by the plough, or the
dust that is crumbled by the gardener's spade. Wells that the Romans
sunk, still yield water; roads that the Romans made, form part of our
highways. Id some old battle-fields British spearheads and Roman arm-
our have been found, mingled together in decay, as they fell in the thick
pressure of the fight. Traces of Roman camps overgrown with grass, and
of mounds that are the burial-places of heaps of Britons, are to be seen
in almost all parts of the country. Across the bleiik moors of Northum-
berland, the wall of Severus, over-run with moss and weeds, still stretch-
es, a strong ruin; and the shepherds and their dogs lie sleeping on it
in the summer weather. On Salisbury Plain, Stonehenge yet stands: a
monument of the earlier time when the Roman name was unknown in
Britain, and when the Druids, with their best magic wands, could not
have written it in the sands of the wild sea- shore.
(Dickers).
2. The Scots and Plots.
During the interval of blessed historic oblivion Adrian, who visited
the island, thought fit to abandon the northern extremity, and erected a
new rampart from the Solway to the Tyne, many miles south of the ram-
part of Agricola. Severus, likewise, who found his presence necessary
in Britain to repel the incursions of the Caledonians and Meatae, erected
a stone wall almost parallel with that of Adrian; and so firmly was it con-
structed, that its remains are still visible. The Caledonians were a fierce
and hardy tribe, supposed to have emigrated from Ireland into Scotland,
the wild and mountainous region of which they occupied- The Meatae
were the inhabitants of the northern part of England, who, though equally
as barbarous as the Caledonians, yet not possessing a country so difficult
of access were more easily subdued.
When Constantius ascended the imperial throne of Rome, he placed
Britain under the Prefect of the Gauls and divided it into three provinces.
i8
- 138 --
The first, called Britannia prima, comprehended all that portion of Brit-
ain, which lies south of the Thames. London was its capital. The sec-
ond was named Britannia secunda. It comprehended that part of the
country, which lies between the river Severn and the Irish sea, and which
is now called Wales. Isca, or Caerleon, was its chief-town. The third
named Maxima Caesariensis, included all the remaining part of Britain,
east and north of the Thames and the Severn. York was its principal
city. Towards the close of the fourth century the Britons engaged in the
party of Maximus, a pretender to the imperial sceptre, and multitudes of
them accompanied him into Gaul. His euterprize failed, but his British
soldiers retreating to Armorica, settled there. The name Bretagne, Brit-
any, and evident traces of their language are standing proofs of this
event.
In the year of Christ 412 the weakened conditions of the empire
obliged Houorius to withdraw the Roman troops from distant stations,
in order to streng then the more central parts of his dominions. The Picts,
so called from the term Pictich, a plunderer, together with the' Scots,
who derived that appellation from the Celtic word Scuite, a wanderer,
quickly forced the rampart which had been raised by Roman skill, and
defended by Roman bravery, and overwhelmed the unwarlike Britons,
like a torrent. Twice the Roman emperor sent them aid from Gaul.
Gallio of Ravenna, who commanded the last detachment of auxiliaries,
having driven back the savage plunderers to their woods and fastnesses,
assembled the chiefs of the island and informed them that they could not
longer hope for the assistance of the Romans, but must depend for their
safety upon their own exertions. The repairing of the wall of Severus,
arms and military engines, with instructions how to use them, were the
last kind offices the Britons received from their friendly conquerors. But
arms and military engines are of little avail, without courage and expe-
rience, to use them. — Britain had been a Roman province nearly 400
years.
The Scots and Picts soon poured in again upon the effeminated Brit-
ons; who instead of uniting to oppose their dreaded foes, wasted the little
strength they had in absurd disputes with one another.' So wretched was
the condition to which they were reduced, that they implored succour
from Aetius, the celebrated commander, whose courage and skill was
the sole support of the empire against the attack of the dreadful Attila
— 139 —
and his savage Hiins, in most lamentable and bewailing language. «Cou[ie
to our aid», said they, «for the barbarians drive us to the sea, aad the
sea repels us upon the weapons of the barbarians; so that the only choice
left us is that of perishing in the waves, or by the swords of our ene-
mies". Aetius, having need of all his force to oppose his terrible foe,
could alford them no succour. The Britons abandoned the open lands,
and sought an asylum in the recesses of their forests. In 445 a prince,
named Vortigern, apparently an ambitious, worthless man, gained the
ascendancy over the Britons. Vortigern induced his countrymen to seek
for aid against the Picts and Scots in Germany. For this purpose, the
Britons sent an embassy to the Saxons, the people destined completely
to enslave them. (Holt).
3. The Saxons.
Off all the barbarous nations, known either in ancient or modern
times, the Germans seem to have been the most distinguished both by
their manners and political institutions, and to have carried to the highest
pitch the virtues of valour and love of liberty; the only virtues which
can have place among an uncivilized people, where justice and humanity
are commonly neglected. Kingly government, even when established
among the Germans (for it was not universal), possessed a very limited
authority, and though the sovereign was usually chosen from among the
royal family, he was directed in every measure by the common consent
of the nation over whom he presided. When any important affairs were
transacted, all the warriors met in arms, the men of greatest authority
employed persuasion to engage their consent; the people expressed their
approbation by rattling their armour, or their dissent by murmurs: there
was no necessity for a nice scrutiny of votes among a multitude who
were usually carried with a strong current to one side or the other; and
the measure, thus suddenly chosen by general agreement, was executed
with alacrity and prosecuted with vigour. Even in war, the princes go-
verned more by example than by authority; but in peace the civil union
was in a great measure dissolved, and the inferior leaders administered
justice after an independent manner, each in his particular district. These
were elected by the votes of the people in their great councils; and
- 140 —
though regard was paid to nobility in the choice, their personal qualities,
chiefly their valour, procured them from the suffrages of their fellow-
citizens that honourable, but dangerous distinction. The warriors of each
tribe attached themselves to their leader with the most devoted affection
and most unshaken constancy. They attended him as his ornament in
peace, as his defence in war, as his council in the administration of
justice. Their constant emulation in military renown dissolved not that
inviolable friendship which they professed to their chieftain and to each
other ; to die for the honour of their band was their chief ambition : to
survive its disgrace, or the death of their leader, was infamous. They
even carried into the field their women and children, who adopted all
the martial sentiments of the men: and being thus impelled by every
human motive, they were invincible, where they were not opposed either
by the similar manners and institutions of the neighbouring Germans, or
by the superior discipline, arms, anci numbers of the Romans.
The leaders and their military companions were maintained by the
labour of their slaves, or by that of the weaker and less warlike part of
the community, whom they defended. The contributions which they levied
went not beyond a bare subsistence; and the honours, acquired by a su-
perior rank, were the only reward of their superior dangers and fatigues.
All the refined arts of life were unknown among the Germans: tillage
itself was almost wholly neglected: they even seem to have been anxi-
ous to prevent any improvements of that nature; and the leaders, by
annually distributing anew all the land among the inhabitants of each
village, kept them from attaching themselves to particular possessions,
or making such progress in agriculture as might divert their attention
from military expeditions, the chief occupation of the community.
The Saxons had been for some time regarded as one of the most
warlike tribes of this fierce people, and had become the terror of the
neighbouring nations. They had diffused themselves from the northern
parts of Germany and the Cimbrian Chersonesus, and had taken posses-
sion of all the sea-coast from the mouth of the Rhine to Jutland; whence
they had long infested by their piracies all the eastern and southern parts
of Britain, and the northern of Gaul. In order to oppose their inroads,
the Romans had established an officer, whom they called Coimt of the
Saxon shore\ and as the naval arts can flourish among a civilized
people alone, they seem to have been more successful in repelling the
— 141 —
Saxons, than any of the other barbarians by whom they were invaded.
The dissolution of the Roman power invited them to renew their inroads;
and it was an acceptable circumstance, that the deputies of the Britons
appeared among them, and prompted them to undertake an enterprise,
to which they were of themselves sufficiently inclined.
Hengist and Horsa, two brothers, possessed great credit among the
Saxons, and were much celebrated both for their valour and nobility.
They were reputed, as most of the Saxon princes, to be sprung from
Woden, who was worshipped as a god among those nations, and they
are said to be his great-grandsons; a circumstance which added much
to their authority. We shall not attempt to trace any higher the origin of
those princes and nations. It is evident what fruitless labour it must be
to search, in those barbarous and illiterate ages, for the annals of a peo
pie, when their first leaders, known in any true history, were believed
by them to be the fourth in descent from a fabulous deity, or from a
man exalted by ignorance into that character. The dark industry of an-
tiquaries, led by imaginary analogies of names, or by uncertain tradi-
tions, would in vain attempt to pierce into that deep obscurity which
covers the remote history of those nations.
These two' brothers, observing the other provinces of Germany to be
occupied by a warlike and necessitous people, and the rich provinces of
Gaul already conquered or overrun by other German tribes, found it easy
to persuade their countrymen to embrace the sole enterprise which pro-
raised a favourable opportunity of displaying their valour and gratifying
their avidity. They embarked their troops in three vessels, and about the
year 449 or 450, carried over 1600 men, who landed in the isle of
Thanet, and immediately marched to the defence of the Britons against
the northern invaders. The Scots andPicts were unable to resist the val-
our of these auxiliaries; and the Britons, applauding their own wisdom
in calling over the Saxons, hoped thenceforth to enjoy peace and security
under the powerful protection of that warlike people.
But Hengist and Horsa perceiving from their easy victory over the
Scots and Picts, with what facility they might subdue the Britons them-
selves, who had not been able to resist those feeble invaders, were de-
termined to conquer and fight for their own grandeur, not for the defence
of their degenerate allies. They sent intelligence to Saxony of the fertility
— 142 —
and riches of Britain; and represented as certain the subjection of a peo-
ple so long disused to arms , who , being now cut off from the Roman
empire, of which they had been a province during so many ages, had
not yet acquired any union among themselves, and were destitute of all
affection to their new liberties, and of all national attachments and re-
gards. The vices and pusillanimity ofVortigern, the British leader, were a
new ground of hope; and the Saxons in Germany, following such agree-
able prospects, soon reinforced Hengist and Horsa, with 500 men, who
came over in seventeen vessels. The Britons now began to entertain
apprehensions of their allies, whose numbers they found continually aug-
menting; but thought of no remedy, except a passive submission and
connivance. This weak expedient soon failed them. The Saxons sought
a quarrel, by complaining that their subsidies were ill paid, and their
provisions withdrawn: and immediately taking off the mask, they formed
an alliance with the Picts and Scots, and proceeded to open hostility
against the Britons.
The Britons, impelled by these violent extremities, and roused to
indignation against their treacherous auxiliaries, were necessitated to
take arms; and having deposed Vortigern, who had become odious from
his vices, and from the bad event of his rash counsels, they put them-
selves under the command of his son, Vortimer. They fought many bat-
tles with their enemies ; and though the victories in these actions be
disputed between the British and Saxon annalists, the progress still made
by the Saxons proves that the advantage was commonly on their side.
In one battle, however, fought at Eaglesford, now Ailsford, Horsa, the
Saxon general, was slain, and left the sole command over his country-
men in the hands of Hengist. This active general, continually reinforced
by fresh numbers from Germany, carried devastation into the most re-
mote corners of Britain ; and being chiefly anxious to spread the terror
of his arms, he spared neither age. nor sex, nor condition, wherever he
marched with his victorious forces. The private and public edifices of
the Britons were reduced to ashes: the priests were slaughtered on the
altars by those idolatrous ravagers ; the bishops and nobility shared the
fate of the vulgar: the people, flying to the mountains and deserts, were
intercepted and butchered in heaps: some were glad to accept of life and
servitude under their victors: others, deserting their native country, took
shelter in the province of Armorica, where, being charitably received by
— 143 -^
a people of the same language and manners, they settled in great num
bers, and gave the country the name of Britanny,
(David Hume). '
4. King Alfred (lie Great,
Alfred was a young man, three and twenty years of age, when he
became King. Twice in his childhood he had been taken to Rome, where
the Saxon nobles were in the habit of going on journeys which they sup-
posed to be religious; and, once, he had staid for some time at Paris.
Learning, however, was so little cared for, then, that at twelve years
old he had not been taught to read ; although, of the four sons of King
Ethelwulf, he, the youngest, was the favourite. But he had — as most
men who grow up to-be great and good are generally found to have
had — an excellent mother; and, one day, this lady, whose name was
Osburgha, happened, as she was sitting among her sons, to read a book
of Saxon poetry. The book was what is called «illuminated» with beauti-
ful bright letters richly painted. The brothers admiring it very much,
their mother said, «I will give it to that one of you four princes, who
first learns to read.» Alfred sought out a tutor that very day, applied
hjjnself to read with great diligence, and soon won the book. He was
proud of it all his life.
This great King, in the first year of his reign, fought nine battles
against the Danes. He made some treaties with them too, by which the
false Danes swore that they would quit the country. They pretended that
they had taken a very solemn oath, in swearing this upon the holy brace-
lets that they wore, and which were always buried with them when
they died. But they cared little for it: one fatal winter, they spread
themselves in great numbers over the whole of England, and so dispersed
and routed the King's soldiers, that the King was left alone, and was
obliged to disguise himself as a common peasant, and to take refuge in
the cottage of one of his cowherds, who did not know his face.
Here, King Alfred, while the Danes sought him far and wide, was
left alone, one day, by the cowherd's wife, to watch some cakes which
she put to bake upon the hearth. But being at work upon his bow and
arrows, with which he hoped to punish the Danes when a brighter time
should come, his noble mind forgot the cakes, and they were burnt.
«What», said the cowherd's wife, who scolded him well when she came
back, «You will be ready enough to eat them by- and -by, and yet you
cannot watch them, idle dog?»
At length, the Devonshire men made head against a new host of
Danes who landed on their coast, killed their chief, and captured their
flag, on which was represented the likeness of a Raven. The loss of their
standard troubled the Danes greatly, for they believed it to be enchanted —
woven by three daughters of one father in a single afternoon — and had
a story among themselves, that when they were victorious in battle, the
Raven stretched his wings and seemed to fly; and that when they were
defeated, he would droop. King Alfred joined the Devonshire men, made
a camp with them on a piece of firm ground in the midst of a bog in
Somersetshire, and prepared for a great attempt for vengeance on the
Danes, and the deliverance of his oppressed people.
But, first, as it was important to know how numerous the Danes
were, and how they were fortified, King Alfred, being a good musician,
disguised himself as a gleeman or minstrel, and went, with his harp, to
the Danish camp. He played and sung in the very tent of Guthrum, the
Danish leader, and entertained the Danes, and they caroused. While he
seemed to think of nothing but his music, he was watchful of their tents,
their arms, their discipline, everything that he desired to know. And
right soon did this great King entertain them to a different tune: for sum-
moning all his true followers to meet him at an appointed place, where
they received him with joyful shouts and tears, he put himself at their
head, marched on the Danish camp, defeated the Danes with great
slaughter, and besieged them for fourteen days to prevent their escape.
But, being as merciful as he was good and brave, he then proposed peace,
on condition that they should altogether depart from that western part
of England, and settle in the East; and that Guthrum should become a
Christian, in remembrance of the divine religion which now taught his
conqueror, the noble Alfred, to forgive the enemy who had so often in-
jured him. This Guthrum did. At his baptism, King Alfred was his god-
father. And Guthrum ever afterwards was loyal and faithful to the King.
The Danes plundered and burned no more, but worked like honest men;
they ploughed, and sowed, and reaped, and led good honest English
lives.
— 145 —
As great and good in peace, as he was great and good in war, King
Alfred never rested from his labours to improve his people. He loved to
talk with clever men, and with travellers from foreign countries, and to
write down what they told him, for his people to read. He had studied
Latin, and now another of his labours was, to translate Latin books into
the Anglo-Saxon tongue, that his people might be interested and im-
proved by their contents. He made just laws, that they might live more
happily and freely; he turned away all partial judges, that no wrong
might be done them; he was so careful of their property, and punished
robbers so severely, that it was said that under the great King Alfred,
golden chains and jewels might have hung across the streets, and no
man would have touched one. He founded schools ; he patiently heard
causes himself in his court of justice; the great desires of his heart were,
to do right to all his subjects, and to leave England better, wiser, hap-
pier in all ways, than he found it, Every day he divided into certain por-
tions, and in each portion devoted himself to a certain pursuit. That he
might divide his time exactly, he had wax torches or candles made,
which were all of the same size, were notched across at regular distan-
ces, and were always kept burning. Thus, as the candles burnt down,
he divided the day into notches, almost as accurately as we now divide
it into hours upon the clock.
Alfred was afflicted with a terrible unknown disease, which caused
him violent and frequent pain that nothing could relieve. He bore it, as
he had borne all the troubles of his life, like a brave and good man, until
he was fifty-three years of age. Having reigned thirty years, he died in
the year 901; but long ago as that is, his fame, and the love and gra-
titude with which his subjects regarded him, are freshly remembered to
the present hour.
Under the great Alfred, all the best points of the Anglo-Saxon cha-
racter were first encouraged, and in him first shown. It has been the
greatest character among the nations of tlie earth. Wherever the descend-
ants of the Saxon race made their way, even to the remotest regions of
the world, they have been patient, persevering, never to be broken in
spirit, never to be turned^ aside from enterprises on which they have
resolved. In Europe, Asia, Africa, America, the whole world over; in
the desert, in the forest, on the sea; scorched by a burning sun, or frozen
by ice that never melts: the Saxon blood remains unchanged. Whereso-
19
— 146 —
ever that race goes, there law, and industry, and safety for life and
property, and all the great results of steady perseverance, are certain to
rise. (Charles Dickens).
5. The Story of Macbeth.
Soon after the Scots and Picts had become one people, as I told you
before, there was a King of Scotland called Duncan, a very good old
man. He had two sons; one was called Malcolm, and the other Donald-
bane. But King Duncan was too old to lead out his army to battle, and
his sons were too young to help him.
At this time Scotland, and indeed France and England and oil other
countries of Europe, were much harassed by the Danes. These were a
very fierce, warlike people, who sailed from one place to another, and
landed their armies on the coast, burning and destroying every thing
wherever they came. They were heathens, and did not believe in the
Bible, but thought of nothing, but battle, and slaughter, and making
plunder. When they came to countries where the inhabitants were cow-
ardly, they took possession of the land, as I told you the Saxons took
possession of Britain. At other times, they landed with their soldiers,
took what spoil they could find, burned the houses, and then'goton board,
hoisted sails, and away again. They did so much mischief, that people
put up prayers to God in the churches, to deliver them from the rage of
the Danes.
Now, it happened in King Duncan's time, that a great fleet of these
Danes came to Scotland, and landed their men in Fife, and threatened to
take possession of that province; so a numerous Scottish army was levied,
to go to fight with them. The King, as 1 told you, wa^ too old to com-
mand his army, and his sons were too young. So he sent out one of his
near relations, who was called Macbeth; he was the son of Finel, who
was Thane, as it was called, of Glamis. The governors of provinces
were at that time, in Scotland, called Thanes; they were afterwards
termed Earls.
This Macbeth, who was a brave soldier,' put himself at the head of
the Scottish army, and marched against the Danes. And he carried with
him a relation of his own, called Banquo, who was also a very brave
-_ 147 —
man. So there was a great battle fought between the Danes and the Scots,
and Macbeth and Banquo defeated the Danes, and drove them back to
their ships, leaving a great many of their soldiers both killed and wound-
ed. Then Macbeth and his army marched back to a town in the North
of Scotland, called Forres, rejoicing on account of their victory.
Now, there lived at this time three old women in the town of Forres,
whom people thought were witches, and supposed they could tell, what
was to come to pass. Nobody would believe such folly now.-a-days, ex-
cept low and ignorant creatures, such as those who consult gipsies, in
order to have their fortunes told; but in those early times the people
were much more ignorant, and even great men like Macbeth believed,
that such persons as these witches of Forres could tell, what was to
come to pass afterwards, and listened to the nonsense they told them,
as if the old women had really been prophetesses. The (dd women saw
that they were resperted and feared, so that they were tempted to im-
pose upon people, by pretending to tell what was to happen to them, and
they got presents for doing so.
So the three old women went, and stood by the wayside, in a great
moor or heath near Forres, and waited till Macbeth came up. And then
stepping before him, as he was marching at the head of his soldiers, the
first woman said: «All hail, Macbeth — hail to thee. Thane of Glamis»!
The second said: «A11 hail, Macbeth — hail to thee, Thane ofCawdorw!
Then the third, wishing to pay him a higher compliment than the other
two, said: «A11 hail, Macbeth, that shall be King of Scotland*! Macbeth
was very much surprised to hear them give him these titles; and while
he was wondering, what they could mean, Banquo stepped forward, and
asked them whether they had nothing to tell about him, as well as about
Macbeth. And they said, that he should not be so great as Macbeth; but
that, though he himself should never be a king, yet his children should
succeed to the throne of Scotland, and be Kings for a great number of
years.
Before Macbeth was recovered from his surprise, there came a mes-
senger to tell him, that his father was dead, so that he was become
Thane of Glamis by inheritance. And there came a second messenger
from the King, to thank Macbeth for the great victory over the Danes,
jind tell him, that the Thane of Cawdor had rebelled against the King,
and that the King had taken his office from him, and had sent to make
— Ii8 —
Macbeth Thane of Cawdor as well as Glamis. Thus the two first old wo-
men seemed to be right in giving him these two titles. I dare say, they
knew something of the death of Macbeth's father, and that the govern-
ment of Cawdor was intended for Macbeth, though he had not heard of it.
However, Macbeth seeing a part of their words come to be true,
began to think, how he was to bring the rest to pass, and make himself
King, as well as Thane of Glamis and Cawdor. And Macbeth had a wife,
who was a very ambitious wicked woman, and when she found out,
that her husband thought of raising himself up to be King of Scotland,
she encouraged him by all the means in her power, and persuaded him,
that the only way to get possession of the crown was to kill the good
old King Duncan. Macbeth was very nnwilling to commit so great a
crime; for he knew, what a good king Duncan bad been, and he recol-
lected, how he was his relation, and had been always very kind to him,
and had intrusted him with the command of his army, and had bestowed
on him the government or Thanedom of Cawdor. And his wife continued
telling him, what a foolish, cowardly thing it was in him, not to take
the opportunity of making himself king, when it was in his power to
gain what the witches promised him. So the wicked advice of his wife,
aud the prophecy of these wretched old women, at last brought Macbeth
to think of murdering his King and his friend. The way in which he ac-
complished his crime, made it still more abominable.
Macbeth invited Duncan to visit him, at a great castle near Inver-
ness; and the good King, who had no suspicion of his kinsmann, ac-
cepted the invitation very willingly. Macbeth and his lady received the
king and all his retinue with much appearance of joy, and made a great
feast, as a subject Avould do, to make his King welcome. About the
middle of the night, the King desired to go to his apartment, and Mac-
beth conducted him to a fine room, which had been prepared for him.
Now it was the custom in those barbarous times, that wherever the King
slept, two armed men slept in the same chamber, in order to defend his
person in case he should be attacked by any one during the night. But
the wicked Lady Macbeth had made these two watchman drink a great
deal of wine, and had besides put some drugs into the liquor, so that
when they went to the King's apartment, they both fell asleep, and *sle|Hi
so soundly, that nothing could awaken them.
— 149 —
Then the cruel Macbeth came into King Duncan's bedroom, about
two in the morning. It was a terrible stormy night; but the noise of the
wind and of the thunder could not awaken the King, as he was old, and
weary with his journey; neither could it awaken the two sentinels. They
all slept soundly. So Macbeth having come into the room, and stepped
gently over the floor, he took the two dirks, which belonged to the sen-
tinels, and stabbed poor old King Duncan to the heart, and that so effec-
tually, that he died without giving even a groan. Then Macbeth put the
bloody daggers into the hands of the sentinels, and he daubed their
faces over with blood that it might appear, as if they had committed the
murder. Macbeth was frightened at what he had done, but his wife made
him wash his hands and go to bed.
Early in the morning, the nobles and gentlemen, who attended on
the King, assembled in the great hall of the Castle, and there they began
to talk of what a dreadful storm it had been the night before. But Mac-
beth could scarcely understand what they said, for he was thinking on
something much worse and more frightful than the storm, and was won-
dering what would be said, when they heard of the murder. They waited
for some time, but finding the King did not come from his apartment,
one of the noblemen went to see, whether he was well or not. But when
he came into the room, he found poor King Duncan lying stiff, and cold,
and blody, and the two sentinels, with their dirks or daggers covered with
blood, both fast asleep. As soon as the Scottish Nobles saw this terrible
sight, they were greatly astonished and enraged, and Macbeth made be-
lieve, as if he were more enraged than any of them, and drawing his
sword, before any one could prevent him, he killed the two attendants
of the King, who slept in the bedchamber, pretending to think, they had
been guilty of murdering King Duncan.
When Malcolm and Donaldbane, the two sons of the good King, saw
their father slain in this manner, within Macbeth's castle, they became
afraid, that they might be put to death likewise, and fled away out of
Scotland; for notwithstanding all the excuses which he could make, they
still believed, that Macbeth had killed their father. Donaldbane fled into
some distant island, but Malcolm, the eldest son of Duncan, went to the
court of England, where he begged for assistance from the English King
to place him on the throne of Scotland, as his father's successor. .
- 150 -
In the meantime Macbeth took possession of the kingdom of Scotland,
and thus all his wicked wishes seemed to he fulfilled. But he was not
happy. — He began to reflect, how wicked he had been, in killing his
friend and benefactor, and how some other person, as ambitious as he
was himself, might do the same thing to him. He remembered, too, that
the old women had said, that the children of Banquo should succeed to
the throne after his death, and therefore he concluded, that Banquo might
be tempted to conspire against him, as he had himself done against King
Duncan.
The wicked always think other people as bad as themselves. In or-
der to prevent this supposed danger, he hired ruffians to watch in a
wood, where Banquo and his son Fleance sometimes used to walk in the
evening, with instructions 16 attack them, and kill both father and son.
The villains did as they were ordered by Macbeth; but while they were
killing Banquo, the boy Fleance made his escape from their wicked hands,
and fled from Scotland into Wales. And it is said, that long afterwards
his children came to possess the Scottish crown.
Macbeth was not the more happy that he had slain his brave friend
and cousin Banquo. He knew that men began to suspect the wicked deeds
which he had done, and he was constantly afraid, that same one would
put him to death, as he had done his old sovereign, or that Malcolm
would obtain assistance from the King of England, and come to make
war against him, and take from him the Scottish kingdom. So in this
great perplexity of mind, he thought he would go to the-old women,
whose words had first put into his mind the desire of becoming a king.
It is to be supposed, that he offered them presents, and that they were
cunning enough to study how to give^him some answer, which should
make him continue in the belief, that they could prophesy what was to
happen in future times. So they answered him, that he should not be
conquered or lose the crown of Scotland, until a great forest, called Bir-
nam wood, should come to attack him in a strong castle, situated on a
high hill called Dunsinane. Now, the hill of Dunsinane is upon the one
side of a valley, and the forest of Birnam is upon the other; there are
twelve miles distance betwixt them, and besides that, Macbeth thought
it was impossible that the trees could ever come to the assault of the
castle. He therefore resolved to fortify his castle on the hill of Dunsinane
very strongly, as being a place in which he would always be sure to be
~ 151 —
safe. For this purpose, he caused all his great nobility and thanes to
send in stones, and wood, and other things, wanted in building, and to
drag them with oxen up to the top^of the steep hill, where he was build-
ing the castle.
Now, among other nobles who were obliged to send oxen, and hor-
ses, and materials, to this laborious work, was one, called Macduff, the
Thane of Fife. Macbeth was afraid of this Thane, for he was very pow-
erful, and was accounted both brave and wise : and Macbeth thought
he would most probably join with Prince Malcolm, if ever he should
come from England with an army. The King, therefore, had a private
hatred against the Thane of Fife, which he kept concealed from all men,
until he should have some opportunity of putting him to death, as he had
done Duncan and Banquo. Macduff, on his pai1, kept upon his guard, and
went to the King's court as seldom as he could, thinking himself never
safe unless while in his own castle of Kennoway, which is on the coast
of Fife, near to the mouth of the Frith of Forth. It happened, however,
that the King had summoned several of his nobles, and Macduff the Thane
of Fife, among others, to attend him at his new castle of Dunsinane;
and they were all obliged to come, none dared stay behind. Now, the
King was to give the nobles a great entertainment, and preparations were
made for it. In the meantime, Macbeth rode out with a few attendants,
to see the oxen drag the wood and the stones up the hill, for enlarging
and strengthening the castle. So they saw most of the oxen trudging up
the hill with great difficulty, for the ascent is very steep, and the bur-
dens were heavy, and the weather was extremely hot. At length, Mac-
beth saw a pair of oxen so tired, that they could go no farther up the
hill, but fell down under their load. Then the King was very angry, and
demanded to know who it was among his Thanes that had sent oxen so
weak and so unfit for labour, when he had so much work for them to
do. Some one replied, that the oxen belonged to Macduff, the Thane of
Fife. «Then», said the King in great anger, « since the Thane of Fife
sends such worthless cattle as these, to do my labour, I will put his own
neck into the yoke, and make him drag the burdens himself».
There was a friend of Macduff, who heard these angry expressions
of the King, and hastened to communrcate them to the Thane of Fife,
who was walking in the Hall of the King's castle, while dinner was
preparing. The instant that Macduff heard what the King had said, he
— 152 —
knew he had no time to lose in making his escape; for whenever Mac-
beth threatened to do mischief to any one, he was sure to keep his
word.
So Macduff snatched up from the table a loaf of bread, called for his
horses and his servants, and was gallopping back to his own Province of
Fife, before Macbeth and the rest of the nobility were returned to the
castle. The first question which the King asked was, what had become
of Macduff? and being informed, that he had fled from Dunsinane, he
ordered a body of his guards to attend him, and mounted on horseback
himself to pursue the Thane, with the purpose of putting him to death.
Macduff, in the mean time, fled as fast as horse's feet could carry
him; but he was so ill provided with money for his expenses, that, when
he came to the great ferry over the river Tay, he had nothing to give to
the boatmen, who took him across, excepting the loaf of bread, which
he had taken from the King's table. The place was called, for a long
time afterwards, the Ferry of the loaf.
When Macduff got into his province of Fife, which is on the other
side of the Tay, he rode on faster than before, tow"ards his own castle of
Kennoway, which, as 1 told you, stands close by the sea side; and when
he reached it, the King and his guards were not far behind him- Mac-
duff ordered his wife to shut the gates of the castle, draw up the draw-
bridge, and on no account permit the King, or any of his soldiers to
enter. In the meantime, he went to the small harbour belonging to the
castle, and caused a ship which was lying there, to be fitted out for sea
in all haste, and got on bo'ard himself, in order to escape from Macbeth.
In the meantime, Macbeth summoned the lady to surrender the castle,
and to deliver up her husband. But Lady Macduff, who was a wise and
brave woman, made many excuses and delays, until she knew that her
husband was safely on board the ship, and had sailed from the harbour.
Then she spoke boldly from the wall of the castle to the King, who was
standing before the gate, still demanding entrance, with many threats of
what he would do, if Macduff was not given up to him.
«Do you see», she said, «yon white sail upon the sea? Yonder goes
Macduff to the court of England. You will never see him again, till he
comes back with young Malcolm, to pull you down from the throne, and
to put you to death. You will never be able to put your yoke, as you
threatened, on the Thane of Fife's neck».
— 153 -
SoQie say, that Macbetli was so much incensed at this bold answer,
that he und his guards attacked the castle and took it, killing the brave
lady and all whom they found there. But others say, and I believe more
truly, that the King seeing, that the castle of Kennoway was very strong,
and that Macdulf had escaped from him, and was embarked for England,
departed back to Dunsinane, without attempting to take Blacduff's castle
of Kennoway. The ruins are still to be seen.
There reigned at that lime in England a very good king, called Ed-
ward the Confessor. I told you, that Prince Malcolm, the son of Duncan,
was at his court soliciting assistance, to recover the Scottish throne.
The arrival of Macduff greatly aided the success of his petition; for the
English King knew, that Macduff was a brave and a wise man. As he
assured Edward, that the Scots were tired of the cruel Macbeth, and
would join Prince Malcolm, if -he were to enter Scotland at the head of
an army; the king ordered a great warrior, called Siward, Earl of North-
umberland, to enter Scotland with an army, and assist Prince Malcolm
in the recovery of his father's crown. Then it happened, as Macduff had
said; for the Scottish Thanes and Nobles would not fight for Macbeth,
but joined Prince Malcolm and Macduff against him; so that at length he
shut himself up in his castle of Dunsinane, where he thought himself
safe, according to the old women's prophecy, until Birnam wood should
come against him. He boasted of this to his followers, and encouraged
them to make a valiant defence, assuring them of certain victory. By
this time, Malcolm and Macduff were come as far as Birnam wood, and
lay encamped there, with their army. The next morning, when they
were to march across the broad valley, to attack the castle of Dunsinane,
Macduff advised that every soldier should cut down a bough of a tree
and carry it in his hand, that the enemy might not be able to see, how
many men were coming against them. Now, the sentinel, who stood on
Macbeth's castlewall, when he saw all these branches, which the soldiers
of Prince Malcolm carried, ran to the King, and informed him, that the
wood of Birnam was moving towards the castle of Dunsinane. The King
at first called him a liar, and threatened to put him to death; but when
he looked from the walls himself, and saw the appearance of a forest,
approaching from Birnam, he knew the hour of his destruction was come.
His followers, too, began to be disheartened, and to fly from the castle,
seeing their master had lost all hopes. Macbeth, however, recollected
20
— 154 —
his own bravery, and sallied desperately out, at the head of the few fol-
lowers, who remained faithful to him. He was killed after a furious
resistance, fighting hand to hand with Macduff, in the thick of the battle.
Prince Malcolm mounted the throne of Scotland, and reigned long and
prosperously. He rewarded Macduff by declaring, that his descendant,
should lead the vanguard of the Scottish army in the battle, and place
the crown on the King's head, at the ceremony of coronation. King Mal-
colm also created (he Thanes of Scotland, Earls, after the title adopted
in the Court of England.
6. The Battle of Hastings.
The English and Normans now prepared themselves for the im-
portant decision; but the aspect of things on the night before the battle
was very d'ifferent in the two camps. The English spent the time in
riot, and jollity, and disorder; the Normans in silence, and in prayer,
and in the other functions of their religion. On the morning, the duke
called together the most considerable of his commanders, and made
them a speech suitable to the occasion. He represented to them, that the
event which they and he had long wished for was approaching; the
whole fortune of the war now depended on their swords, and would be
decided in a single action; that never army had greater motives for vig-
orous courage, whether they considered the prize which would attend
their victory, or the inevitable destruction which must ensue upon their
discomfiture; that if their martial and veteran bands could once break
those raw soldiers, who had rashly dared to approach them, they con-
quered a kingdom at one blow, and were justly entitled to all its pos-
sessions as the reward of their prosperous valour: that, on the contrary,
if they remitted in the least their wonted prowess, an enraged enemy
hung upon their rear, the sea met them in their retreat, and an ignomi-
nious death was the certain puishment of their imprudent cowardice:
that by collecting so numerous and brave a host, he had insured every
human means of conquest; and the commander of the enemy, by his cri-
minal conduct, had given him just cause to hope for the favour of
the Almighty, in whose hands alone lay the event of wars and battles:
and that a perjured usurper, anathematized by the sovereign pon-
tiff, and coDsciouvS of his own breach of faith, would be struck with
— 155 —
terror on their appearance, and would prognosticate to himself that late
which his multiplied crimes had so justly merited. The duke next di-
vided his army into three lines; the first, led by Montgomery, consisted
of archers and light armed infantry; the second, commanded by Martel,
was composed of his bravest battalions, heavy armed, andranged inclose
order: his cavalry, at whose head he placed himself formed the third
line, and were so disposed, that they stretched beyond the infantry, and
flanked each wing of the army. He ordered the signal of battle to be
given; and the whole army, moving at once, and singing the hymn or
song of Roland, the famous peer of Charlemagne, advanced, in order and
with alacrity, towards the enemy.
•Harold had seized the advantage of a rising ground, and having like-
wise drawn some trenches to secure his flanks, he resolved to stand upon
the defensive, and to avoid all action with the cavalry, in which he was
inferior. The Kentish men were placed in the van; a post which they had
always claimed as their due: the Londoners guarded the standard: and
the king himself, accompanied by his two valiant brothers, Gurth and
Leofwin, dismounting, placed himself at the head of his infantry, and
expressed his resolution to conquer, or to perish in the action. The
first attack of the Normans was desperate, but was received with equal
valour by the English, and after a furious combat, which remained long
undecided, the former, overcome by the difficulty of the ground, and hard
pressed by the enemy, began first to relax their vigour, then to retreat;
and confusion was spreading among the ranks, when William, who found
himself on the brink of destruction, hastened with a select band to the
relief of his dismayed forces. His presence restored the action; the Eng-
lish were obliged to retire with loss; and the duke, ordering his second
line to advance, renewed the attack with fresh forces, and with redoubled
courage. Finding that the enemy, aided by the advantage of ground, and
animated by the example of their prince, still made a vigorous resistance,
he tried a stratagem, which was very delicate in its management, but
which seemed advisable in his desperate situation, where, if he gained
not a decisive victory, he was totally undone: he commanded his troops
to make a hasty retreat, and to allure the enemy from their ground by
the appearance of flight. The artifice succeeded against those unexperien-
ced soldiers who, heated by the action, and sanguine in their hopes,
precipitately followed the Normans into the plain. William gave orders,
— 156 —
that at once tlie infantry should face about upon their pursuers, and the
cavalry make an assault upon their wings, and both of them pursue the
advantage, which the surprise and terror of the enemy must give them in
that critical and decisive moment. The English were repulsed with great
slaughter, and driven back to the hill; where being rallied by the brave-
ry of Harold, they were able, notwithstanding their loss, to maintain
the post, and continue the combat. The duke tried the same stratagem a
second time with the same sucess; but even after this double advantage,
he still found a great body of the English, who, maintaining themselves
in firm array, seemed determined to dispute the victory to the last ex-
tremity. He ordered his heavy-armed infantry to make an assault upon
them; while his archers, placed behind, should gall the enemy, ^vho
were exposed by the situation of the ground, and who were intent on de-
fending themselves against the SAVords and spears of the assailants. By
this disposition he at last prevailed: Harold was slain by an arrowy while
he was combating with great bravery at the head of his men: his two
brothers shared the same fate: and the English, discouraged by the fall
of those princes, gave ground on all sides, and were pursued Avith great
slaughter by the victorious Normans. A few troops, how^ever, of the van-
quished, had still the courage to turn upon their pursuers; and attacking
them in deep and miry ground, obtained some revenge for the slaughter
and dishonour of the day. But the appearance of the duke obliged them
to seek their safety by flight; and darkness saved them from any further
pursuit by the enemy.
Thus was gained by William, Duke of Normandy, the great and de-
cisive victory of Hastings, after a battle which w^as fought from morning
till sunset, and which seemed worthy, by the heroic valour displayed by
both armies, and by both coramanders,to decide the fate of a mighty king-
dom. William had three horses killed under him; and there fell near fifteen
thousand men on the side of the Normans: the loss was still more consi-
derable on that of the vanquished; besides the death. of the king and his
two brothers. The dead body of Harold was brouhgt to William, and
was generously restored without ransom to his mother. The Norman army
left not the field of battle without giving thanks to Heaven in the most
solemn manner for their victory: and the prince, having refreshed his
troops, prepared to push to the utmost his advantage against the divided,
dismayed, and discomfited English. (David Hume.)
— i57 —
7. Bold Robin Hood.
The famous Robin Hood, whose real name was Robert Fitzooth, and
who flourished during the reigns of Henry the Second and Richard Coeur
de Lion, was born in the town of Locksley, in Nottinghamshire, about
the year llfiO. He was a liandsome youth, and the best archer in the
county, and regularly bore away the prizes at all the archery meetings,
being able to strike a deer five hundred yards off. In truth, he was just
fit to be one of the royal archers, and would no doubt have turned out
better, had not his uncle been persuaded by the monks of Fountain Ab-
bey to leave all his property to the church; and thus poor Robin being
sent' adrift into the world, took refuge in Sherwood Forest, where he
met with several other youths who had been driven into the woods by
the oppression of the Norman nobles and the great severity of the forest
laws. They soon formed themselves into a band under his leadership,
and commenced leading the life of outlaws. Robin Hood and his men
adopted a uniform of Lincoln green, with a scarlet cap, and each man
was armed with a dagger and a basket-hilted sword, and a bow in his
hand, and a quiver slung on his back, while the captain always had a
bugle horn with him to summon his followers about him.
One day, when Robin Hood set out alone, in hopes of meeting with
some adventure, he reached a brook, over which a narrow plank was
laid to serve for a bridge, and, just as he was going to cross it, a tall
and handsome stranger appeared on the other side, and as neither seemed
disposed to give way, they met in the middle of the bridge.
«Go back», cried the stranger to Robin Hood, «or it will be the
worse for you.»
But Robin Hood laughed at the idea of his giving way to anybody,
and proposed they should each take an oak branch, and fight it out, and
that, whoever could manage to throw the other into the brook should
win the day. Accordingly they set-to in right earnest, and after thrash-
ing each other well, the stranger gave Robin Hood a blow on his head,
which effectually pitched him into the water. When Robin Hood had
waded back to the bank, he put his bugle to his lips, and blew several
blasts till the forest rang again, and his followers came leaping from all
directions to see what their captain wanted. When he had fold them how
he had been served by the stranger, they would fain have ducked him,
— 158 -~
but Robin Hood, who admired his bravery, proposed to him to join their
band.
«Here*s my hand on it,» cried the stranger, delighted at the pro-
posal, « though my name is John Little, you shall find I can do great
things, ')
But Will Stutejy, one of Robin's merrymen, insisted upon it that he
must be re-christened. So a feast was held, a barrel of ale broached,
and the new-comer's name was changed from John Little to Little John,
which nick-name, seeing that he was near seven feet high, was a per-
petual subject for laughter.
Not long after this, as Robin Hood sat one morning by the way-
side, trimming his bow and arrows, there rode by a butcher, with a
basket of meat, who was hastening to market. After bidding him good-
morrow, Robin asked him, what he would take for the horse and the
basket? The butcher, somewhat surprised, answered he would not care
to sell them for less than four silver marks. «Do but throw your greasy
frock into the bargain, >> said Robin, «and here's the money. 5 Delighted
at having concluded so good a bargain, the butcher lost no time in dis-
mounting and throwing oif his smock frock, which the outlaw instantly
put on over his clothes, and then galloped away to Nottingham.
On reaching the town, Robin Hood put up his horse at an inn, and
then went into the market, and, uncovering his basket, began to sell its
contents about five times cheaper than all the other butchers; for Robin
Hood neither knew nor cared about the price usually paid for meat, and
it amused him vastly to see his stall surrounded by customers. The other
butchers could not at first understand why everybody flocked to purchase
his goods in preference to theirs; but when they heard that he had sold
a leg of pork for a shilling, they consulted together, and agreed that he
must be some rich man's son who was after a frolic, or else a downright
madman, and that they had better try and learn something more about
him, or else he would ruin their business. So when the market was over,
one of them invited Robin Hood to dine with their company. The sheriff
of Nottingham presided at the head of the table, while at the other end
sat the innkeeper. The outlaw played his part as well as the rest of them,
and, when the dishes were removed, he called for more wine, telling
them all to drink as much as they could carry, and he would pay the
reckoning.
— 159 —
The sheriff then turned to Robin Hood, and asked him whether he
had any horned beasts to sell; for he was a miser, and hoped to profit
by the new butcher's want of experience, and drive a good bargain with
him. Robin Hood replied he had some two or three hundreds; whereup-
on the sheriff said that, as he wanted a few heads of cattle, he would
like to ride over and look at them that same day. So Robin Hood flung
down a handful of silver on the table, by way of farewell to his aston-
ished companions, and set out for Sherwood Forest with the sheriff, who
had mounted his palfrey, and provided himself with a bag of gold for
his purchase. The outlaw was so full of jokes and merriment as they
went along, that the sheriff thought he had never fallen in with a pleas-
anter fellow. On a sudden, however, the sheriff recollected that the
woods were infested by Robin Hood and his band, and he said to his
companion he hoped they would not meet with any of them; to which
he only answered by a long laugh. Presently they reached the forest,
when a herd of deer crossed their path. «How do you like my horned
beasts, Master Sheriff?* inquired Robin. «To tell you the truth», replied
the sheriff, «I only half like your company, and wish myself away from
hence. » Then Robin Hood put his bugle to his mouth and blew three
blasts, when about a hundred men, with Little John at their head, im-
mediately surrounded them, and the latter inquired what his master
wanted. «I have brought the Sheriff of Nottingham to dine with us,»
said Robin Hood, «He is welcome, » quoth Little John, ccand I hope he
will pay well for his dinner.* They then took the bag of gold from the
luckless sheriff, and, spreading a cloak on the grass, they counted out
three hundred pounds, after which Robin asked him if he would like
some venison for dinner. But the sheriff told him to let him go, or he
would rue the day; so the outlaw desired his best compliment to his
good dame, and wished him a pleasant journey home.
But if Robin loved a joke, he often did a good turn to those who
needed his assistance. Thus, he lent four hundred golden pounds to Sir
Rychard o' the Lee, who had mortgaged his lands of Wierysdale for that
sum to St. Mary's Abbey, and who happened to pass through Sherwood
Forest on his way to York, to beg the abbot to grant him another year.
Robin Hood, moreover, bid Little John to accompany him as his squire.
When they reached the city, the superior was seated in his hall, and
declared to the brethren, that if Sir Rychard did not appear before
— IBO -
sunset his lands would be forfeited. Presently the knight of Wierysdale
came in, and pretended to beg for mercy; but the proud abbot spurned
him, when Sir Rychard flung the gold at his feet and snatched away the
deed, telling him, if he had shown a little christian mercy, he should
not only have returned the money, but made a present to the abbey.
And indeed, the monks had to rue their mercilessness in the end, as
Robin Hood levied a toll of eight hundred pounds upon them as they
once passed through Sherwood Forest, which enabled him to forgive Sir
Rychard's debt," when that trusty knight came to discharge it at the ap-
pointed time.
Another time as Robin Hood was roaming through the forest, he saw
a handsome young man, in a very elegant suit, who was passing over
the plain, singing blithely, as he went. On the following morning, he was
surprised to see the same young man coming along with disordered clothes
and dishevelled hair, and sighing deeply at every step, and saying:
«Alack! and well-a-day!» Robin Hood having sent one of his men to
fetch him, inquired what lay so heavy on his heart, and why he was so
gladsome yesterday and so sorry to-day. The young man puUed out his
purse, and showed him a ring, saying: «I bought this yesterday to marry
a maiden I have courted these seven long years, and this morning she
is gone to church to wed another. » «Does she love you?» said Robin.
«She has told me so a hundred times, » answered Alleu-a-Dale, fur such
was the youth's name. «Tut man! then she is not worth caring for, if
she be so fickle! » cried Robin Hood. «But she does not love him,» in-
terrupted Allen-a-Dale; «he is an old cripple quite unlit for such a lovely
lass.» uThen, why does she marry him?» inquired Robin Hood. « Be-
cause the old knight is rich, and her parents insist upon it, and have
scolded and raved at her tiH she is as meek as a lamb.;> «And where is
the wedding to take place?* said Robin. «At our parish, five miles from
heuce», said Allen, «and the Bishop of Hereford, who is the bridegroom's
brother, is to perform the ceremony. »
Then without more ado, Robin Hood dressed himself up as a harper
with a flowing white beard, and a dark coloured mantle, and bidding
twenty-four of his men fuUow at a distance, he entered at the church,
and took his place near the altar. Presently the old knight made his
appearance, hobbling along, and handing in a maiden as fair as day, aU
tears and blushes, accompanied by her young companions strewing flow-
— 161 —
ers. «This is not a fitmatch», said Robin Hood aloud, «and I forbid
the marriage, » And then, to the astonishment of the Bishop and of all
present, he blew a blast on his horn, when four-and-twenty archers came
leaping into the church-yard, and entered the building. Foremost among
these was Allen-a-Dale, who presented his bow to Robin Hood. The
outlaw by this time had cast off his cloak and false beard, and turning
to the bride, said: «Now, pretty one, tell me freely whom you prefer for
a husband— this gouty old knight, or one of these bold young fellows ?»
«Alas!» said the young maid, casting down her eyes, « Allen-a-Dale has
courted me for seven long years, and he is the man I would choose.*
«Then, now my good lord bishop,* said Robin, «prithee unite this lov-
ing pair before we leave the church. » «That cannot be,» said the bishop;
«the law requires they should be asked three times in the church. » «If
that is all,» quoth Robin Hood, «we'll soon settle that matter.* Then,
taking the bishop's gown, he dressed Little John up in it, and gave him
the book, and bid him ask them seven times in the church, lest three
should not be enough. The people could not help laughing, but none at-
tempted to forbid the bans, for the bishop and his brother walked in-
dignantly out of the church. Robin Hood gave away the maiden, and the
whole company had a venison dinner in Sherwood Forest; and from that
day Allen-a-Dale was a staunch friend to Robin Hood as long as he
lived
Robin Hood had often heard tell of the prowess of a certain friar
Tuck who, having been expelled from Fountain Abbey for his irregular
conduct, lived in a rude hut he had built himself amidst the woods, and
who was said to wield a quarter-stat! and let fly an arrow better than
any man inChistendom. So, being anxious to see how far this was true,
Robin set off one morning for Fountain's Dale, where he found the friar
rambling on the bank of the river Shell. The friar was a burly man a*t
least six feet high, with a broad chest, and an arm fit for a blacksmith.
The outlaw walked up to him saying: « Carry me over this water, thou
brawny friar, or thou hast not an hour to live.» The friar tucked up his
gown and carried him over without a word; but when Robin seemed to
be going, he cried out: «Stop, my fine fellow, and carry me over this
water, or it shall breed you pain.» Robin did so, and then said: «As
you are double my weight, it is fair I should have two rides to your one,
so carry me back again. » The friar again took Robin on his back; but-
21
— 162 —
OD reaching the middle of the stream he pitched him into the water,
saying: «Now, my fine fellow, let's see whether you'll sink or swim.»
Robin swam to the bank, and said: «I see you are worthy to be my
match;» and then summoning his foresters by a blast of his bugle, he
told the friar he was Robin Hood, and asked him to join his band.
«If there's an archer amongst you that can beat me at the long bow,
then I'll be your man,)) quoth Friar Tuck. Then pointing to a hawk on
the wing, he added: «ril kill it, and he who can strike it again before
it falls, will be the better man of the two.)) Little John accepted the
challenge. The shafts flew off, and when the dead bird was picked up,
it was found that the friar's arrow had pinioned the hawk's wings to his
sides, and that Little John's had transfixed it from breast to back. So
friar Tuck owned himself outdone, and joined Robert's merry men.
The whole country now rang with Robin Hood's lawless pranks, when
one morning six priests passed through Sherwood Forest, on richly ca-
parisoned horses, and thinking a good prize Avas in the wind, the out-
laws bid them halt, and Friar Tuck seized the bridle of the one whom he
judged to be the abbot, and bid him pay the toll. The abbot got down
and gave him a cuff that made his ears tingle, and, flinging him on his
knees, plucked him by the beard. Quoth Friar Tuck: «Wedonntake that
sort of coin.» «But we are going on a message from King Richard,* said
the abbot. Then Robin bid the friar desist saying: «God save the King, and
confound all his foes!» «You are a noble fellow, » quoth the abbot, «and
if you and your men will give up this lawless life and become my ar-
chers, you shall have the king's pardon. » He then opened his gown, and
Robin Hood and his archers, guessing at once that Richard himself stood
before them, bent their knees to their liege lord, crying: «Long live
King Richard! »
• So Robin Hood accompanied the King to London, followed by fifty of
his most faithful adherents; and here he assumed the title of Earl of
Huntingdon; but he soon grew tired of the confinement of court, and ask-
ed permission to revisit the woods. The King granted him seven days;
but when once he breathed the pure air of Sherwood again, he could not
tear himself away; and when from old habit he sounded his bugle, he
was surprised to see the signal answered by fourscore youths. Little John
soon joined him, and he again became the leader of a band. Richard was
so enraged on hearing this, that he sent two hundred soldiers to reduce
I
— 163 —
the rebel, and a desperate fight took place on a plain in the forest, when
Robin Hood was wounded by an arrow, and removed to Kirkley's Nun-
nery, where the treacherous prioress suffered him to bleed to death.
Seeing his end fast approaching, he called to Little John, and begged him
to remove him to the woods, and there poor Robin Hood died as he had
lived, beneath the green trees, and was buried according to his wish.
The stone that marked the spot bore the following inscription:
•Here underneath this little stone
Lies Robert, Eai'l of Huntingdon.
Ne'er archer was as he so good;
And people called him Robin Hood.
Such outlaws as he and his men
Will England never see again."
8. Death and Character of Richard I.
Vidomar, Viscount of Limoges, a vassal of the king's, had found a
treasure, of which he sent part to that prince as a present. Richard, as
superior lord, claimed the whole; and, at the head of some Braban^ons,
besieged the viscount in the castle of Chalus, near Limoges, in order to
make him comply with his demand. The garrison offered to surrender;
but the king replied, that since he had taken the pains to come thither
and besiege the place in person, he would take it by force, and would
hang every one of them. The same day, Richard, accompanied by Mar-
cad6e, leader of his Brabancons, approached the castle in order to survey
it; when one Bertrand de Gourdon, an archer, took aim at him, and
pierced his shoulder with an arrow. The king, however, gave orders for
the assault, took the place, and hanged all the garrison, except Gourdon,
who had wounded him, and whom he reserved for a more deliberate and
more cruel execution.
The wound was not in itself dangerous; but the unskilfulness of the
surgeon made it mortal: he so rankled Richard's shoulder in pulling out
the arrow, that a grangrene ensued, and that prince was now sensible
that his life was drawing towards a period. He sent for Gourdon, and
asked him, Wretch^ what have I ever done to you^ to oblige you to
seek my life? — What have you clone to me? replied coolly the pri-
soner; You killed with your own hands my father and my two
— 164 —
brothers; and you intended to have hanged rr.yself: I am now in
your power ^ and you may take revenge, by inflicting on me the most
severe torments; but I shall endure them all with pleasure, provided
1 can think that I have been so happy as to rid the world of such a
w^isance. Richard, struck with the reasonableness of this reply, and
humbled by the near approach Of death, ordered Gourdon to be set at li-
berty, and a sum of money to be given him: but Marcad^e, unknown to
him, seized the unhappy man, flayed him alive, and then hanged him.
Richard died in the tenth year of his reign, and the forty- second of his
age; and he left no issue behind him.
The most shining parts of this prince's character are his military ta-
lents. No man, even in that romantic age, carried personal courage and
intrepidity to a greater height; and this quality gained him the appella-
tion of the lion-hearted, coeur de lion. He passionately loved glory,
chiefly military glory; and as his conduct in the field was not inferior to
his valour, he seems to have possessed every talent necessary for acqui-
ring it. His resentments also were high; his pride unconquerable; and his
subjects, as well as his neighbours, had therefore reason to apprehend,
from the continuance of his reign, a perpetual scene of blood and violence.
Of an impetuous and vehement spirit, he was distinguished by all the
good as well as the bad qualities, incident to that character; he was open,
frank, generous, sincere, and brave; he was revengeful, domineering,
ambitious, haughty, and cruel; and was thus better calculated to dazzle
men by the splendour of his enterprises, than either to promote their hap-
piness or his own grandeur, by a sound and well-regulated policy. As
military talents make great impression on the people, he seems to have
been much beloved by his English subjects; and he is remarked to have
been the first prince of the Norman line that bore any sincere regard to
them. He passed however only four months of his reign in that kingdom:
the Crusade employed him near three years; he was detained about four-
teen months in captivity; the rest of his reign was spent either in war,
or preparations for war, against France; and he was so pleased with the
fame which he had acquired in the East, that he determined, notwith-
standing his past misfortunes, to have further exhausted his kingdom,
and to have exposed himself to new hazards, by conducting another ex-
pedition against the infidels. (David Hume.)
- 165 —
9. Chivalry.
Chivalry was introduced into England under the Norman princes. Noble
youths intended for the profession of arms were placed, as pages or va-
lets, in the families of great barons, where they were instructed in the
rules of courtesy and politeness, and in martial exercises. The courts of
princes and barons became schools of chivalry, in which young men were
taught dancing, riding, hawking, hunting, tilting, and other accomplish-
ments, to qualify them for the honours of knighthood. From pages they
were advanced to the rank of esquires.
Once on a week in Lent, crowds of sprightly youth, mounted on horse-
back, rode into the fields in bands, armed with lances and shields, and
exhibited representations of battles. Many of the young nobility, not yet
knighted, issued from the houses of their princes, bishops, earls, and
barons, to make trial of their skill and strength in arms. The hope of
victory rouses their spirits; their fiery steeds neigh, prance, and champ
their foaming bits. The signal given, the sports begin; the youth di-
vided into bands, encounter each other. Some flee, others pursue without
overtaking them; while in another quarter, one band overtakes and over-
throws another.
After spending seven or eight years in these schools, in the station
of esquires, these youths received the honours of knighthood, from the
prince or baron. To prepare for this ceremony, they were obliged to sub-
mit to severe fastings, to spend nights in prayer in a church, to receive
the sacrament, to bathe and put on white robes, confess their sins, and
hear sermons, in which Christian morals were explained. Thus prepared,
the candidate went to church, and advanced to the altar with his sword
slung in a scarf about his neck. This sword he presented to the priest,
who blessed and returned it. When the candidate approached the person
who was to perform the ceremony, he fell on his knees and delivered
him his sword.
The candidate having taken an oath, was adorned with the armour
and ensigns of knighthood, by the knights and ladies attending the ce-
remony. First they put on his spurs, beginning with his left foot; next
his coat of mail; then his cuirass; then the armour for his legs, hands
and arms; and lastly, they girt on his swoord. Then the prince or baron
descended from his throne or seat, and gave him the accolade, which
— 166 —
was three gentle strokes with the flat of his sword on the shoulder, or
with the palm of his hand on the cheek, pronoancing in the name of St.
George, I make thee a knight, be brave, hardy and loyal. » The young
knight then rose, put on his shield and helmet, mounted his horse without
the stirrup, and displayed his dexterity in the management of his horse,
amidst the acclamations of a multitude of spectators.
(Noah Webster.)
10. Henry II. Goiiquest of Ireland.
Ireland was at the time of Henry II. nearly in the same situation in
which England had been after the first invasion of the Saxons. Its in
habitants had been early converted to Christianity; and, for three or four
centuries after, possessed a very large proportion of the learning of the
times: being undisturbed by foreign invasions, and perhaps too poor to
invite the rapacity of conquerors, they enjoyed a peaceful life which
they gave up to piety, and such learning as was then thought necessary
to promote it. Of their learning, their arts, their piety, and even their
polished manners, too many monuments remain to this day for us to
make the least doubt concerning them ; but it is equally true, that in
time they fell from these advantages, and their degenerate posterity, at
the period we are now speaking of, were involved in the darkest barba-
rity. This may be imputed to the frequent invasions which they suffered
from the Danes and Norwegians, who overran the whole country, and
every where spread their ravages, and confirmed their authority: the
natives, kept in the strictest bondage, grew every day more ignorant
and brutal; and when at last they rose upon their conquerors, and totally
expelled them from the island, they wanted instructors to restore them
to their former attainments. Henceforward they long continued in the
most deplorable state of barbarism. The towns that had been formerly
built were suffered to fall into ruin; the inhabitants exercised pasture in
the open country, and sought protection from danger by retiring into their
forests and bogs. Almost all sense of religion was extinguished; the petty
princes exercised continual outrages upon each other's territories; and
strength alone was able to procure redress.
— 167 —
At the time when Heury first planned the invasion of the island, it
was divided into five small kingdoms, namely, Leinster, Meath, Mon-
ster, Ulster, and Connaught. As it had been usual for one or other of the
five kings to take the lead in their wars, he was denominated monarch
of the island, and possessed a power resembling that of the early Saxon
monarchs in England. Roderic O'Connor, king of Connaught, then en-
joyed this dignity, and Dermont M'Morrogh was king of Leinster. This
last-named prince, a weak, licentious tyrant, had carried off and ravished
the daughter of the king of Meath, who, being strengthened by*the alli-
ance of the king of Connaught, invaded the ravisher's dominions, and
expelled him from his kingdom. This prince, thus justly punished, had
recourse to Henry, who was at that time in Guienne, and offered to
hold his kingdom of the English crown, if he should recover it by the
king's assistance. Henry readily accepted the offer; but being at that
time embarrassed by more near interests, he only gave Dermont letters
patent, by which he empowered all his subjects to aid the Irish prince
in the recovery of his dominions. Dermont, relying on this authority,
repaired to Bristol, where, after some difficulty, he formed a treaty with
Richard, surnamed Strongbow, earl of Pembroke, who agreed to rein-
state him in his dominions, upon condition of his being married to his
daughter Eva, and declared heir of all his territory. He at the same time
contracted for succours with Robert Fitzstephen and Maurice Fitzgerald,
whom he promised to gratify with the city of Wexford, and the two
adjoining districts, which were then in possession of the Easterlings, or
descendants of the Norwegians. Being thus assured of assistance, he re-
turned privately to Ireland, and concealed himself during the winter in
the monastery of Femes, which he had founded. Robert Fitzstephen was
first able, tbe ensuing spring, to fulfil his engagements, by landing with
thirty knights, sixty esquires, and three hundred archers. They were
soon after joined by Maurice Prendergast, who, about the same time,
brought over ten knights and sixty archers; and with this small force
they resolved on besieging Wexford, which was to be theirs by treaty.
This town was quickly reduced; and the adventurers, being reinforced by
another body of men, to the amount of a hundred and fifty, under the
command of Maurice Fitzgerald, composed an army that struck the bar-
barous natives with awe. Roderic, the chief monarch of the island, ven-
tured to oppose them, but he was defeated, and soon after the prince
— 168 —
of Ossory was obliged to submit, and give hostages for his future con-
duct,
Dermont, being thus reinstated in his hereditary dominions, soon
began to conceive hopes of extending the limits of his power, and ma-
king himself master of Ireland. With these views he endeavoured to
expedite Strongbow, who, being personally prohibited by the king had
not come over.
Dermont tried to inflame his ambition by the glory of the conquest,
and his avarice by the advantages it would procure: he expatiated on
the cowardice of the natives, and the certainty of his success. Strong-
bow first sent over Raymond, one of his retinue with ten knights and
seventy archers; and receiving permission shortly after for himself, he
landed with two hundred horse and a hundred archers. All these English
forces, now joining together, became irresistible, and though the whole
number did not amount to a thousand, yet, such was the barbarous state
of the natives, that they were every where put to the rout. The city of
Waterford quickly surrendered; Dublin was taken by assault; and Strong-
bow, marrying Eva, according to treaty, became master of the kingdom
of Leinster upon Dermont's decease.
The island being thus in a manner wholly subdued, for nothing was
capable of opposing the progress of the English arms, Henry became
jealous of the success of the adventurers, and- was willing to share in
person those honours which they had already secured. He therefore
shortly after landed in Ireland (1171) at the head of five hundred knights
and some soldiers; not so much to conquer a disputed territory, as to
take possession of a subject kingdom. In his progress through the count-
ry, he received the homage of the petty chieftains, and left most of them
in possession of their ancient territories. In a place so uncultivated and
so ill peopled, there was still land enough to satisfy the adventurers who
had followed him; Strongbow was made seneschal of Ireland; Hugh de
Lacey was made governor of Dublin, and John de Courcy received a
patent for conquering the province of Ulster, which yet remained unsub-
dued, The Irish bishops very gladly admitted the English, as they ex-
pected from their superior civilization a greater degree of reverence and
respect. Pope Adrian IV. had, in the beginning, encouraged Henry to
subdue the Irish by his bull, granting him the kingdom. Pope Alexander III.
now confirmed him in his conquest; and the kings of England were ac-
— 169 —
knowledged as lords over Ireland for ever. Thus, after a trifling effort, in
which very little money was expended, and little bloodshed, that beau-
tiful island became an appendage to the English crown, and as such it
has ever since continued with unshaken fidelity.
(Oliver Goldsmith) .
11. Magna Cliarta (1215).
The famous document known to us under the name of Magna Charta
was originally drawn up in the reign of King John. It professed to con-
tain all that was valuable in the laws of Edward the Confessor, and con-
sequently in those of Alfred the Great; fur Edward's code was merely a
repetition and an enlargement of Alfred's. The necessity for a revival of
those laws arose from the harsh and cruel manner in which the Norman
Kings used their power. They would exact money from their subjects,
and give no account of the way in which it was spent. They would
commit them to prison, without showing any cause for the act; and
even refuse them the privilege of trial by jury .... These and many
other wrongs the people were determined to bear no longer; and to pre-
vent John and all his successors from committing like injuries to the
people, the barons compiled a number of laws, rules, and clauses, which
together make up the Magna Charta. It was signed by John, on a little
island in the Thames, between Windsor and Staines, called Runnymede,
1215.
Many of its clauses related to facts and circumstances interesting
only to those who lived in that age, but some few of them were of so
much importance that to this day they are justly regarded as one of the
most precious portions of an Englishman's birthright .... Of those
which bear that character, the followang is the substance: 1) No man
shall be imprisoned without just cause being shown. 2) Eyery man com
mitted to prison shall have a right to a trial by a jury of his peers.
3) Taxes should not be laid upon the people without the consent of par-
liament. 4) The courts of justice should be stationary, instead of follow-
ing the King's person.
So much importance did the people attach to this charter, that in
the course of John's reign, and those succeeding it, it was solemnly read
22
^— 170 -^
and confirmed upwards of thirty times; but at length it was found that
many portions of it had become so inqperative, that it was disregarded
by kings, and useless to the people. It was subsequently superseded by
the ((Petition of Right*, presented to Charles I in 1628.
12. Edward l.'s Conquest of Wales and Scotland.
In 1274 Edward I., and Eleanor, his amiable and truly worthy queen,
were crowned at Westminster. His virtues and talents had rendered him a
favourite of the nation. By means of this popularity he curbed the inso-
lence of the barons, and by the equable administration of justice he main-
tained tranquillity among the people. Had not tlie love of war and the
thirst of conquest counterbalanced his good qiialities, and impelled him
to arbitrary and cruel acts, Edward I. would, probably, have been a bless-
ing to his subjects. But he too soon began, and too long continued, the
career of false glory. Scarcely did he find himself firmly seated on the
throne, when he determined to subdue Wales, and to tame the hitherto
untameable fierceness of the descendants of the ancient Britons.
Safe under the shelter of their mountains, and animated with the love
of liberty, these aboriginal inhabitants of Britain had preserved themselves
from the yoke of the Saxons, the Danes, and the Normans; but at last,
internal discord began the process of their subjugation , and the great military
abilities of Edward completed it. He subdued Wales, after a doubtful and
severe struggle; annexed it to the English crown, and determined that the
title of Prince of Wales should be borne by the eldest sons of his success-
ors. It is asserted by the most historians of England, though denied
by some, that Edward commanded all the Welsh bards who could be found
to be put to death, lest by their enthusiastic songs they should rouse the
ancient British spirit, and renew the struggle for liberty. Ambition is a
restless, insatiable passion. Seven years after he had effected this con-
quest, Edward proceeded to another still more important. Alexander III.,
king of Scotland, dying without children, the crown was claimed by se-
veral competitors among whom Bruce and Baliol were the principal, being
descended on the female side from the royal house. The flames of civil
war were about to burst forth and rage. To prevent this, the nobles of
Scotland chose Edward as umpire between the rivals. But by this, they
brought upon their country an evil, worse than that which they wished to
— 171 —
avoid. The monarch of England accepted the office; marched at the head
of a powerful army; caused several fortresses to be put into his hands
as pledges of obedience to his award; and obliged the Scotch barons to
acknowledge him as their liege lord. He then pronounced sentence in
favour of Baliol. Baliol soon found the yoke of Edward too galling to
be borne; and making a league with Philip le Bel, king of France, he
and his countrymen endeavoured to throw it off. This alliance had the un-
expected effect of giving political existence to the common people of Eng-
land. The Earl of Leicester had, indeed, invited them to send representa-
tives to parliament; but the invitation of a rebel had been but little regarded.
Edward, surrounded by a factious nobility, and threatened with two wars
at once, perceived that he could not hope for external success, nor internal
peace, unless the nation at large were interested in his favour; he ac-
cordingly, summoned the people to choose their deputies, in order to give
their consent to the imposition of taxes, saying, «It is but just that what
interests all, should be approved of by all.»
With the supplies granted by these representatives of the people, Ed-
ward raised a large army, and quickly subdued the Scotch, made Baliol
prisoner, and sent him to finish his days as a private individual in France.
In vain did Bruce and Wallace, heroic patriots, strive to resist the mighty •
power of Edward. They strove in vain; and had the English sovereign go-
verned the Scotch with equity, their union with England would probably
have ta.ken place at that time. But his governors exercised shameful op-
pression, and harassed the nation with grievous vexations. Again and
again did the Scotch rise against their oppressors, and sometimes by the
wonderful valour of William Wallace , their efforts were crowned with
success. Yet, finally, they failed; and Wallace, their noble hero, being
betrayed into the hands of Edward, instead of being treated- with that
respect which his laudable through fruitless efforts merited, he was, con-
trary to all justice, executed as a traitor. Robert Bruce, son of the rival
candidate with Baliol for the crown, then formed the design of delivering
his country. He was living in London, a kind of prisoner at large, when
intentions were betrayed to the king, by Comyn, a treacherous friend.
Of this the Earl of Gloucester is said to have warned Bruce, by sending
him a purse of gold and a pair of spurs. Though the roads were covered
with snow, having caused his horse's shoes to be reversed, that he might
not be tracked, he arrived safely in his own country, and roused the
— 172 ^
Scotch once more to arms. At first, his bold attempt promised well, and
he was crowned king of Scotland at Scone. But the scene soon changed.
Three English armies invaded his territories at the same time. Bruce was
defeated, and obliged to fly to concealment in one of the smallest of the
western islands. His kinsmen and friends were taken prisoners and inhu-
manly massacred; andEdward , whose indignation had now risen to the high-
est pitch, threatening to exterminate the whole nation, marched early in the
spring of Ihe year 1307 toward.^ the north, with a most formidable force of
veteran soldiers and experienced commanders. But death arrested him in
his sanguinary course. On the sands not far from Charlisle, he sank under
the overpowering influence of a rapid disease. The immediate view of
death did not quell his savage sentiments of revenge; for just before he
expired, he exhorted his son to complete his schemes of vengeance, and
commanded, that his bones should be carried in the front of the army,
asserting that the Scotch would fly at the mere sight of his remains. —
Edward had lived sixty- eight years, and reigned thirty-four. His stature
was majestic, and his whole figure commanding. His legs were long, out
of proportion to the rest of his body; which circumstance gave him the
name of Longshauks. (Holt.)
13. R 0 b e r t B r u c e.
The celebrated Robert Bruce was crowned king of Scotland, March
19-th 1306. On the 18-th of May, he was excommunicated by the
Pope, a sentence which excluded him from all the benefits of religion,
and authorised any one to kill him. Finally, on the 19-th June, the
new king was completely defeated near Methven by the English Earl of
Pembroke. Robert's horse was killed under him in the action, and he
was for a moment a prisoner. But he had fallen into the power of a
Scottish knight, who, though he served in the English army, did not
choose to be the instrument of putting Bruce into their hands, and allow-
ed him to escape-
Bruce, with a few brave adherents, among whom was the young
Lord Douglas, who was afterwards called the Good Lord James, retired
into the Highland mountains, where they were chased from one place
of refuge to another, placed in great danger, and underwent many hard-
ships. Bruce's wife, now Queen of Scotland, with several other ladies,
— 173 —
accompanied her husband and his followers during their wanderings.
There was no other way of providing for them save by hunting and
fishing. It was remarked, that Donglas was the most active and success-
ful in procuring for the unfortunate ladies such supplies as his dexterity
in fishing, or in killing deer could furnish to them.
Driven from one place in the Highlands to another, Bruce endeav-
oured to force his way into Lorn, but he found enemies every where.
The M'Doiigal, a powerful family, then called the Lords of Lorn, were
friendly to the English, and putting their men in arms, attacked Bruce
and his wandering companions, as soon as they attempted to enter their
country. The chief of these M'Dougal, called John of Lorn, hated Bruce
on account of his having slain the Red Comyn in the church at Dumfries,
to whom this M'Dougal was nearly related. Bruce was again defeated by
this chief, through force of numbers, at a place called Dairy, but he
shewed, admist his misfortunes, the greatness of his strength and cour-
age. He directed his men to retreat through a narrow pass, and placing
himself last of the party, he fought with, and slew such of the enemy
as attempted to press hard on them. Three followers of M'Dougal, a
father and two sons, called M'Androsser, all very strong men, when they
saw Bruce thus protecting the retreat of his followers, made a vow, that
they would either kill him or make him prisoner. The whole then rushed
on the king at once. The king was on horseback, in the strait pass we
have described, betwixt a steep hill and a deep lake. He struck the first
man, who came up and seized his bridle, such a blow with his sword
as cut oif his hand and freed his bridle. The man bled to death. The
other brother had seized him in the mean time by the leg, and was
attempting to throw him from horseback. The king, setting spurs to his
horse, made the animal suddenly spring forward, so that the Highlander
fell under the horse's feet, and as he was endeavouring to rise again,
the king cleft his head in two with his sword. The father, seeing his
two sons thus slain, flew at Robert Bruce, and grasped him by the
mantle so close to his body, that he could not have room to wield his
long sword. But with the heavy pommel, or, as others say, with an
iron hammer, which hung at his saddle bow, the king struck this third
assailant so dreadful a blow, that he dashed out his brains. Still, how-
ever, the Highlander kept his dying grasp on the king's mantle, so
that, to be free of the dead body, Bruce was obliged to undo the broach
. _ 174 ~
or clasp, by which it was fastened, and leave that and the mantle itself
behind him. The broach, which fell thus into the possession of M'Dougal
of Lorn, is still preserved in that ancient family as a memorial, that the
celebrated Robert Bruce once narrowly escaped falling into the hands of
their ancestor. Robert greatly resented this attack upon him; and when
he was in happier circumstances, did not fail to take his revenge on
M'Dougal, or, as he is usually called, John of Lorn.
At last, dangers increased so much around the brave King Robert,
that he was obliged to separate himself from the ladies and his queen,
for the winter was coming on, and it would be impossible for the wo-
men to endure this wandering sort of life, when the frost and the snow
should arrive. So he left his queen, with the countess of Buchan and
others, in the only castle which remained to him, which was called
Kildrummie, and is situated near the head of the river Don in Aberdeen-
shire. The king also left the youngest brother, Nigel Bruce, to defend
the castle against the English; and he himself, with his second brother
Edward, who was a very brave man, but still more rash and passionate
than Robert himself, went over to an island called Rachrin, on the coast
of Ireland, where Bruce and the few men that followed his fortunes
passed the winter of 1306. In the meantime, ill luck seemed to pursue
all his friends in Scotland. The castle of Kildrummie was takeu by the
English, and Nigel Bruce, a beautiful and brave youth, was cruelly put
to death by the victors. The ladies who had attended on Robert's queen,
as well as the queen herself, and the countess of Buchan, were thrown
into strict confinement, and treated with the utmost severity. This news
reached Bruce while he was residing in a miserable dwelling at Rachrin,
and reduced him to the point of despair.
It was probably about this time that an incident took place, which,
although it rests only on tradition in the family of the name of Bruce,
is rendered probable by the manners of the times. After receiving the
last unpleasing intelligence from Scotland, Bruce was lying one morning
on his wretched bed, and deliberating with himself, whether he had not
better resign all thoughts of again attempting to make good his right to
the Scottish crown, and, dismissing his followers, transport himself and
his brothers to the Holy Laud, and spend the rest of his life in fighting
against the Saracens: by which he thought, perhaps, he might deserve
— 175 —
the forgiveness of Heaven for the great sin of stabbing Comyn in the
church of Dumfries.
But then, on the other hand, he thought it would be both criminal
and cowardly to give up his attempts to restore freedom to Scotland,
while there yet remained the least chance of his being successful in an
undertaking which, rightly considered, was much more his duty, than
to drive the Infidels out of Palestine, though the superstition of his age
might think otherwise.
While he was divided betwixt these reflections, and doubtful of what
he should do, Bruce was looking upward to the roof of the cabin in which
he lay, and his eye was attracted by a spider, which, hanging at the
end of a long thread of its own spinning, was endeavouring, as is the
fashion of that creature, to swing himself from one beam in the roof to
another, for the purpose of fixing the line on which he meant to stretch
his web. The insect made the attempt again and again, without success,
and at length, Bruce counted that it had tried to carry its point six times,
and been as often unable to do so. It came into his head, that he had
himself fought just sixt battles against the English and their allies, and
that the poor persevering spider was exactly in the same situation with
himself, having made as many trials, and been as often disappointed in
what it aimed at. «Now», thought Bruce, «as I have no means of know-
ing what is best to be done, I will be guided by the luck that shall
attend this spider. If the insect shall make another effort to fix its thread,
and shall be successful, I will venture a seventh time to try my fortune
in Scotland; but if the spider shall fall, I will go to the wars in Pales-
tine, and never return to my native country again».
While Bruce was forming this resolution, the spider made another
exertion with all the force it could muster; and fairly succeeded in fast-
ening its thread on the beam which it had so often in vain attempted to
reach. Bruce seeing the success of the spider, resolved to try his own
fortune; and as he never before gained a victory, so he never afterwards
sustained any considerable check or defeat. I have often met with people
of the name of Bruce, so completely persuaded of the truth of this story,
that they would not on any account kill a spider, because it was such
an insect, which had shown the example of perseverance, and given a
signal of good luck, to their namesake.
14. Battle of Crecy.
The intelligence of Edward's unexpected invasion soon reached Paris,
and threw Philip into great perplexity. He issued orders, however, for
levying forces in all quarters; and despatched the Count of Eu, Constable
of France, and the Count of Tancarville, with a body of troops, to the
defence of Caen, a populous and commercial but open city, which lay in
the neighbourhood of the English army. The temptation of so rich a
prize, soon allured Edward to approach it; and the inhabitants, encouraged
by their numbers, and the reinforcements which they daily received from
the country, ventured to meet him in the field. But their courage failed
them on the first shock: they fled with precipitation: the Counts of Eu
and Tancarville were taken prisoners: the victors entered the city along
with the vanquished, and a furious massacre commenced, without distinc-
tion of age, sex, or condition. The citizens, in despair, barricadoed their
houses, and assaulted the English with stones, briks, and every missile
weapon: the English made way by fire to the destruction of the citizens:
till Edward, anxious to save both his spoil and his soldiers, stopped the
massacre; and having obliged the inhabitants to lay down their arms,
gave his troops licence to begin a more regular and less hazardous plun-
der of the city. The pillage continued for three days: the king reserved
for his own share the jewels, plate, silks, fine cloth, and fine linen; and
he bestowed all the remainder of the spoil on his army. The whole was
embarked on board the ships, and sent over to England, together with
three hundred of the richest citizens of Caen, whose ransom was an ad-
ditional profit, which he expected afterwards to levy. This dismal scene
passed in the presence of two cardinal legates, who had come to nego-
ciate a peace between the kingdoms.
The king moved next to Rouen, in hopes of treating that city in the
same manner; but found that the bridge over the Seine was already bro-
ken down, and that the King of France himself was arrived there with
his army. He marched along the banks of that river towards Paris, de-
stroying the whole country, and every town and village which he met
with on his road. Some of his light troops carried their ravages even to
the gates of Paris; and the royal palace of St. Germains, together with
Nanterre, Ruelle, and other villages, was reduced to ashes within sight
of the capital. The English intended to pass the river at Poissy, but
found the French army encamped on the opposite banks, and the bridge
-~ 177 —
at that place as well as all others over the Seine, broken down by or-
ders from Philip. Edward now saw that the French meant to enclose
him in their country, in hopes of attacking him with advantage on all
sides: but he saved himself by a stratagem from this perilous situation.
He gave his army orders to dislodge, and to advance further up the
Seine; but immediately returning by the same road, he arrived atPoissy,
which the enemy had already quitted in order to attend his motions. He
repaired the bridge with incredible celerity, passed over his army, and
having thus disengaged himself from the enemy, advanced by quick march-
es towards Flanders. His vanguard, commanded by Harcourt, met with
the townsmen of Amiens, who were hastening to reinforce their king,
and defeated them with great slaughter: he passed by Beauvais, and
burned the' suburbs of that city: but as he approached the Somme, he
found himself in the same difficulty as before : all the bridges on that
river were either broken down or strongly guarded: an army, under the
command of Godemar de Faye, was stationed on the opposite banks :
Philip was advancing on him from the other quarter, with an army of a
hundred thousand men: and he was thus exposed to the danger of being
enclosed, and of starving in an enemy's country. In this extremity he
published a reward to any one that should bring him intelligence of a
passage over the Somme. A peasant, called Gobin Agace, whose name
has been preserved by the share which he had in these important trans-
actions, was tempted, on this occasion, to betray the interests of his
country; and he informed Edward of a ford below Abbeville, which had a
sound bottom, and might be passed without difficulty at low water. The
king hastened thither, but found Godemar de Faye on the opposite banks.
Being urged by necessity, he deliberated not a moment; but threw him-
self into the river, sword in hand, at the head of his troops; drove the
enemy from their station; and pursued them to a distance on the plain.
The French army under Philip arrived at the ford, when the rear- guard
of the English were passing. So narrow was the escape which Edward,
by his prudence and celerity, made from this danger ! The rising of the
tide prevented the French king from following him over the ford, and
obliged that prince to take his route over the bridge at Abbeville; by
which some time was lost.
It is natural to think that Philip, at the head of so vast an army,
was impatient to take revenge on the English, and to prevent the dis-
23
— 178 —
grace to which he must be exposed, if an inferior enemy should be al-
lowed, after ravaging so great a part of his kingdom, to escape with im-
punity. Edward also was sensible that such must be the object of the
French monarch ; and as he had advanced but a little way before his
enemy, he saw the danger of precipitating his march over the plains of
Picardy, and of exposing his rear to the insults of the numerous cavalry,
in which the French camp abounded. He took, therefore, a prudent re-
solution: he chose his ground with advantage, near the village of Crecy;
he disposed his army in excellent order; he determined to await in tran-
quillity the arrival of the enemy; and he hoped that their eagerness to
engage, and to prevent his retreat, after all their past disappointments,
would hurry them on to some rash and ill concerted action. He drew up
his army on a gentle ascent, and divided them into three lines: the first
was commanded by the Prince of Wales, and under him, by the Earls of
Warwick and Oxford, by Harcourt, and by the Lords Chandos, Holland,
and other noblemen: the Earls of Arundel and Northampton, with the
Lords Willoughby, Basset, Roos, and Sir Lewis Tufton, were at the head
of the second line: he took to himself the command of the third division,
by which he purposed either to bring succour to the two first lines, or to
secure, a retreat in case of any misfortune, or to push his advantages
against the enemy. He had likewise the precaution to throw up trenches
on his flanks, in order to secure himself from the numerous bodies of
the French, who might assail him from that quarter; and he placed all
his baggage behind him in a wood, which he also secured by an in-
trenchment.
The skill and order of this dispositon, with the tranquillity in which
it was made, served extremely to compose the minds of the soldiers; and
the king, that he might further inspirit them, rode through the ranks
with such an air of cheerfulness and alacrity, as conveyed the highest
confidence into every beholder. He pointed out to them the necessity to
which they were reduced, and the certain and inevitable destruction which
awaited them, if, in their present situation, enclosed on all hands in an
enemy's country, they trusted to any thing bjjt their own valour, or gave
that enemy an opportunity of taking revenge for the many insults and
indignities which they had of late put upon him. He reminded them of
the visible ascendant wliich they had hitherto maintained over all the
bodies of French troops, that had fallen in their way; and assured them,
— 179 —
that the superior numbers of the army which at present hovered over
them, gave them not greater force, but was an advantage easily compen-
sated by the order in which he had placed his own army, and the reso-
lution which he expected from them. He demanded nothing, he said,
but that they would imitate his own example, and that of the Prince of
Wales; and as the honour, the lives, the liberties of all were now ex-
posed to the same danger, he was confident that they would make one
common effort to extricate themselves from the present difficulties, and
that their united courage would-- give them the victory over all their
enemies.
It is related by some historians, that Edward, besides the resources
which he found in his own genius and presence of mind, employed also
a new invention against the enemy, and placed in his front some pieces
of artillery, the first that had yet been made use of on any remarkable
occasion iu Europe. This is the epoch of one of the most singular disco-
veries that has been made among men; a discovery which changed by
degrees the whole art of war, and by consequence many circumstances
in the political government of Europe. But the ignorance of that age in
the mechanical arts rendered the progress of this new invention very
slow. The artillery first framed were so clumsy, and of so difficult ma-
nagement, that men were not immediately sensible of their use and effi-
cacy: and'even to the present times, improvements have been continually
making on this furious engine, which, though it seemed contrived for the
destruction of mankind, and the overthrow of empires, has in the issue
rendered battles less bloody, and has given greater stability to civil socie-
ties. Nations by its means have been brought more to a level: conquests
have become less frequent and rapid : success in war has been reduced
nearly to be a matter of calculation: and any nation overmatched by its
enemies, either yields to their demands, or secures itself by alliances
against their violence and invasion.
The invention of artillery was at this time known in France as well
as in England; but Philip in his hurry to overtake the enemy, had pro-
bably left his cannon behind him, which he regarded as a useless en-
cumbrance. All his other movements discovered the same imprudence and
precipitation. Impelled by anger, a dangerous counsellor, and trusting to
the great superiority of his numbers, he thought that all depended on
forcing an engagement with the English; and that, if he could once reach
— 180 —
the enemy in their retreat, the victory on his side was certain and in-
evitable. He made a hasty march, in some confusion, from Abbeville;
but after he had advanced above two leagues, some gentlemen, whom he
had sent before to take a view of the enemy, returned to him, and
brought him intelligence, that they had seen the English drawn up in
great order, and awaiting his arrival. They therefore advised him to de-
fer the combat till the ensuing day, when his army would have recovered
from their fatigue, and might be disposed into better order than their
present hurry had permitted them to observe. Philip assented to this
counsel; but the former precipitation of his march, and the impatience of
the French nobility, made it impracticable for him to put it in execution.
One division pressed upon another: orders to stop were not seasonably
conveyed to all of them; this immense body was not governed by suffi-
cient discipline to'be manageable: and the French army, imperfectly form-
ed into three lines, arrived, already fatigued and disordered, in pre-
sence of the enemy, The first line, consisting of i 5,000 Genoese cross-
bow men, was commanded by Anthony Doria and Charles Grimaldi: the
second was led by the Count of Alencon, brother to the king: the king
himself was at the head of the third. Besides the French monarch, there
were no less than three crowned heads in this engagement: the King of
Bohemia, the King of the Romans, his son, and the King of Majorca;
with all the nobility and great vassals of the crown of France. The army
now consisted of above 120,000 men, more than three times the num-
ber of the enemy. But the prudence of one man was superior to the ad-
vantage of all this force and splendour.
The English, on the approach of the enemy, kept their ranks firm
and immovable; and the Genoese first began the attack. There had hap-
pened, a little before the engagement, a thunder shower, which had moist-
ened and relaxed the strings of the Genoese crossbows; their arrows,
for this reason, fell short of the enemy. The English archers, taking
their bows out of their cases, poured in a shower of arrows upon this
multitude who were opposed to them, and soon threw them into dis-
order. The Genoese fell back upon the heavy-armed cavalry of the Count
of Alencon; who, enraged at their cowardice, ordered his troops to put
them to the sword. The artillery fired amidst the crowd; the English
archers continued to send in their arrows among them; and nothing was
to be seen in that vast body but hurry and confusion, terror and dismay.
— 181 —
The young Prince of Wales had the presence of mind to take advantage
of this situation, and to lead on his line to the charge. The French ca-
valry, however, recovering somewhat their order, and encouraged hy the
example of their leader, made a stout resistance; and having at last clear-
ed themselves of the Genoese runaways, advanced upon their enemies,
and by their superior numbers began to hem them round. The Earls of
Arundel and Northampton now advanced their line to sustain the prince,
who, ardent in his first feats of arms, set an exemple of valour which
was imitated by all his followers. The battle became, for some time, hot
and dangerous, and the Earl of Warwick, apprehensive of the event from
the superior numbers of the. French, despatched a messenger to the king,
and entreated him to send succours to the relief of the prince. Edward
had chosen his station on the top of the hill; and he surveyed in tran-
quillity the scene of action. When the messenger accosted him, his first
question was, whether the prince were slain or wounded? On receiving
an answer in the negative, Return, said he, to my son, and tell him,
that I reserve the honour of the day to him: I am confident that he
will show himself worthy of the honour of knighthood which I so
lately conferred upon him: he will be able, without any assistance ^
to repel the enemy. This speech, being reported to the prince and his
attendants, inspired them with fresh courage: they made an attack with
redoubled vigour on the French, in which the Count of Alencon was slain:
that whole line of cavalry was thrown into disorder: the riders were kill-
ed or dismounted: the Welsh infantry rushed into the throng, and with
their long knives cut the throats of all who had fallen; nor was any quar-
ter given that day by the victors.
The King of France advanced in vain with the rear to sustain the line
commanded by his brother: he found them already discomfited; and the
example of their rout increased the confusion which was before but too
prevalent in his own body. He had himself a horse killed under him: -he
was remounted; and though left almost alone, he seemed still determined
to maintain the combat; when John of Hainault seized the reins of his
bridle, turned about his horse, and carried him off the field of battle.
The whole French army took to flight, and was followed and put to the
sword, without mercy, by the enemy; till the darkness of the night put
an end to the pursuit. The King, on his return to the camp, flew into
the arms of the Prince of Wales, and exclaimed. My brave son! Per-
— 182 -
severe in pour honourable course: You are my son; for valiantly
have you acquitted yourself to-day: You have shown yourself worthy
of empire/
This battle, which is known by the name of the battle of Crecy, began
after three o'clock in the afternoon, and continued till evening. The next
morning was foggy; and as the English observed that many of the enemy
had lost their way in the neight and in the mist, they employed a stra-
tagem to bring them into their power : they erected on the eminences
some French standards which they had taken in the battle; and all who
were allured by this false signal were put to the sword, and no quarter
given them. In excuse for this inhumanity, it was alleged that the French
king had given like orders to his troops; but the real reason probably was,
that the English, in their present situation, did not choose to be encum-
bered with prisoners. On the day of battle and on the ensuing, there
fell, by a moderate computation, 1200 French knights, 1400 gentlemen,
4000 men at arms, besides about 30,000 of inferior rank: many of the
principal nobility of France, the Dukes of Lorraine and Bourbon, the
Earls of Flanders, Blois, Vaudemont, Aumale, were left on the field of
battle. The kings also of Bohemia and Majorca were slain: the fate of the
former was remarkable: he was blind from age; but being resolved to
hazard his person, and set an example to others, he ordered the reins of
his bridle to be tied on each side to the horses of two gentlemen of his
train; and his dead body, and those of his attendants, were afterwards
found among the slain, with their horses standing by them in that situa-
tion. His crest was three ostrich feathers, and his motto these German
words, Ich dien, I serve: which the Prince of Wales and his successors
adopted in memorial of this great victory. The action may seem no less
remarkable for the small loss sustained by the English than for the great
slaughter of the French; there were killed in it only one esquire and
three knights, and very few of inferior rank; a demonstration, that
the prudent disposition planned by Edward, and the disorderly attack
made by the French, had rendered the whole rather a rout than battle;
which was indeed the common case with engagements in those times.
(David Hume.)
183
15. The War of Roses.
As Henry VI. advanced in years, he manifested a mild and gentle dispo-
sition, but an utter incapacity for steering the vessel of the state through
the waves of a stormishsea. By the influence of the Earl of Suifolk, an am-
bitious and unprincipled man, Henry married Margaret, daughter of R6n6,
of Anjou, titular king of Naples, a woman of great energy of mind, and
unbounded love of power, who, consequently, governed him with absolute
sway .The enthusiasm, excited in the French nation by Joan of Arc, who ima-
gined herself to be commissioned by the Almighty to deliver her country
from a foreign yoke, of which Charles and his commanders skilfully made
use — the disputes which took place among the English captains; and
the defection of the Duke of Burgundy, together with the loss of Talbot,
the illustrious Earl of Shrewsbury, and several other brave warriors, gra-
dually transferred the conquests made by Henry V., to their lawful pos-
sessors. The nation murmured; the barons quarrelled with one another,
till at last blazed forth that dreadful flame of civil war which raged for
thirty years — produced twelve pitched battles — sacrificed upwards of
one hundred thousand lives — and nearly destroyed the ancient nobility
of England.
Richard, Duke of York, was descended , by the female line, from
Lionel, the second son of Edward III., and was, therefore, nearer the
throne, in regular succession, than Henry VI., who derived his descent
from the Duke of Lancaster, the third son of that mighty monarch.
Richard was endowed with considerable abilities, great valour, and po-
pular qualities. His party was sustained by the Earl of Salisbury and the
Earl of Warwick, the most potent baron and formidable warrior of his
age. The Lancastrian cause was espoused by the Dukes of Suffolk and
Somerset, the Earl of Northumberland, Clifford, and many other famous
nobles. The latter assumed the red rose as their emblem, while the
Yorkists adopted the while rose as the sign of their faction. Various
were the changes of fortune, which took place in these unhappy and most
destructive dissensions. Henry was alternately in the hands of both par-
ties, and by each played as a mere puppet. His queen Margaret mani-
fested astonishing activity and fortitude, but disgraced by cruel and im-
placable revenge. The Duke of York himself perished in the conflict with
his youthful son, the Duke of Rutland; but Warwick and the other sons of
. — 184 -- .^
York sustained their cause. Edward, the eldest son of Richard, was crown-
ed at London, under the title of Edward IV. Henry, captive for the third
time, was lodged in the Tower of London. Margaret and his son took
refuge in France. To all appearances, the struggle was now over; hut it
proved to be not so. Another storm was raised by pride and anger, which
produced another change. Warwick was sent by Edward to the French
Court, to demand for him in marriage Bona of Savoy, the sister-in-law
of Louis XI. The illustrious envoy succeeded in his commission, and ob-
tained the Princess. But in the intervening time, the capricious Edward
had espoused and crowned a beautiful and accomplished woman, daughter
of the Duchess of Bedford, and widow of Sir John Grey. This imprudent
act naturally displeased the French monarch, and filled the high spirited
Warwick with indignation. This, however, he concealed in his own bosom
for some years, till he found an opportunity of displaying it effectually.
George, Duke of Clarence, one of Edward's brothers, being prevented
by him from marrying a rich heiress, who was given to the queen's bro-
ther, was impelled, by the rage of disappointment, to an open rupture
with the king; and with him Warwick united. Their firsts movements
were unsuccessful. They were obliged to fly to France: where the desire
of vengeance reconciled them to Queen Margaret. Louis furnished them
with troops, vessels, and money. Warwick arrived in safety at Dart-
mouth; declared himself the avenger of the house of Lancaster; and soon
saw himself at the head of sixty thousand men. Taken by surprise, and
unable to resist such a torrent, Edward fled into Holland, after having
narrowly escaped being taken prisoner. Henry VI. was released from the
Tower, and, for the fourth time, reseated on the throne. But the unfortu-
nate sovereign did not remain long in that dangerous situation. Edward
returned with a small force, furnished for him by his ally, the Duke of
Burgundy. Landing in Yorkshire, the adherents to his cause crowded to
his standard by thousands; he led them to London, and was well received
in that city. At length the hostile armies met near Barnet, and a san-
guinary battle took place. In the heat of the fight the fickle Duke of Cla-
rence went over to his brother with the body of men which he command-
ed; and Warwick, wo had been styled the king-maker, was slain. In
another battle near Tewkesbury, the unhappy Margaret vainly endeavoured
to support her falling cause. The Lancastrians were again defeated; their
leader, the Duke of Somerset, was slain; and the queen, with her son
— 185 —
ft
Edward, a high-minded and gallant young prince, fell into the power of
the victors, who cruelly murdered the latter, and kept the former in cap-
tivity, till she was ransomed by the king of France. Almost all the friends
of the Lancastrian family had now perished in battle or on the scaffold.
Henry VI. did not long survive his irremediable misfortunes. After a
miserable reign of fifty two years he died in the Tower, A. D. 1472; —
according to most English historians, assassinated by Richard, Duke of
Gloucester, the valiant, fierce, and pitiless brother of Edward IV.
Edward IV. may be regarded as being established on the throne of
England, A. D. 1472. A profound calm now succeeded the dreadful
tempest which had raged so long, and scattered desolation so widely from
its wings. Edward was remarkable for the beauty of his form, and for
active valour. But there ends \m praise. He was vindictive, cruel, and
shamefully intemperate, indulging all his passions, without scruple, or
limit. In him it clearly appeared that the love of pleasure by no means
tends t!D soften the angry and inhuman feelings. Though he had appar-
ently pardoned Neville, Archbishop of York, for having deserted him, he
sent him to perish in prison in a foreign land. Though his brother Clar-
ence, by deserting Warwick in the midst of the fight, had probably given
victory to Edward, yet mindful only of that prince's former defection, he
impeached him before the parliament and procured his condemnation and
death. Scarcely had he satisfied his thirst of revenge, when he yielded
to the temptations of ambition, and formed the project of attacking
France in conjunction with the Duke of Burgundy. He actually passed
into that country at the head of a formidable army, but not being sup-
ported by his ally, he accepted an annual tribute which Louis offered for
the sake of peace. In seven years after, death delivered the world from
this pernicious monarch, A. D. 1483. He was forty three years of age.
The deceased monarch left two sons and six daughters. The eldest
son, Edward V. was immediately acknowledged as king of England, but
as he was only thirteen years old, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, his
uncle, governed under his name as Protector. This ambitious and crafty
man gradually gained possession of the supreme power, and destroyed
his rivals and opponents, the relations of the queen. He seized the per-
son of the young sovereign, and of his brother, Richard, Duke of York,
and under pretext of securing them from sudden violence, placed them
in the Tower. Afterwards he caused reports of their illegitimacy to be
24
— 186 —
spread, asserting that the late king was married to another woman, when
he took Elizabeth Grey to wife; and that he himself was the only lawful
heir of the crown. Endeavouring to engage Hastings,, the lord chamber-
lain, to destroy the young princes, and finding him faithful to the royal
house, he procured his condemnation and death. By means of the Duke
of Buckingham, he then obtained the apparent choice of the people, and
their invitation to assume the sceptre. In this manner, Richard of Glouce-
ster ascended the throne; and soon after this event, his innocent nephews
were murdered, A. D. 1485. It is supposed that they were stifled by
his command, and buried beneath a heap of stones. In the reign of Char-
les II. the rubbish which was imagined to cover the remains of the un-
fortunate princes, being removed in order to make a new entrance to the
chapel of th^ white tower, in the great Tower of London, two-skeletons
were found, answering in size and position, the tradition concerning the
interment of the royal children. The bones were transported to West-
minster Abbey, and there deposited under a marble monument. -
Wicked associates seldom live long in friendship : Richard and Bucking-
ham, the vile instrument of his exaltation, soon quarrelled, There exist-
ed a branch of the house of Lancaster, Henry, Earl of Richmond, by
the paternal line, grandson of Owen Tudor, whom Catherine of France
had married after the decease of her noble husband, Henry V., and de-
scended by the female side from Edward III. He was, at that time, living
in Brittany, rather guarded than protected by its duke. Him Buckingham
invited to wrest the sceptre from the hands of the tyrant Richard; while
he himself appearing in arms prematurely, was taken and beheaded. In
the mean time, Richmond obtained a smaU supply of troops from the
French king; and, landing in Wales, was there joined by Vere, Earl of
Oxford, and many remaining friends of the Red Rose- Thence he marched
forwards to Bosworth in Leicestershire, where Richard met him with a
far superior force. An engagement ensued; at the very commencement
of which, Lord Stanley, who had married the mother of Richmond, and
who had suffered under the oppressive sway of the usurper, deserted
from him with a considerable body of troops. The rest of the royal
army was speedily routed, and Richard, rushing among his enemies with
desperate fury, was slain, after having killed Sir Robert Brandon, who
bore Richmond's standard. Together with him fell the Duke of Norfolk
and four thousand common men, fighting in a cause of little importance
— 187 —
to their welfare, A. D. 1485. Upon the field of battle, the victorious
army, with loud shouts, saluted Richmond king of England, and he
ascended the throne without further opposition. The contest between the
white and red roses was now terminated for ever- The families of York
and Lancaster were united by the marriage of Richmond, now Henry VII.,
with Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Edward IV.; and an end was happily
put to those dreadful civil wars, which had sacrificed multitudes of val-
uable citizens, and almost broken the strength of the nation. (Holt).
16, Henry VII.
Henry Tudor was a wise and prudent monarch, who knew how to
appreciate the value of peace, and felt its necessity for reviving the
strength of the nation. His reign of nearly four and twenty years was
fortunate and tranquil, rather than brilliant, and was so much the more
beneficial to his subjects. Toward its commencement he suppressed two
dangerous- insurrections by his activity and vigour; one raised by Simnal,
the son of a baker, who pretended that the unfortunate Duke of Clarence
was his father; the other by Perkin Warbeck, who asserted himself to
be Richard, Duke of York, escaped from the assassins employed by his
inhuman uncle; and who had actually murdered his brother Edward V.
Henry VII. found the royal treasury nearly exhausted by the extravagance
of his predecessors. Habits of strict economy were, therefore, absolutely
necessary. Unfortunately those habits became immoderately strong and
finally degenerated into rapacity and avarice. By Elizabeth of York, Henry
had two sons; the elder of whom, Arthur, a prince whose talents and
conduct raised the most pleasing expectations, died before his father, to
the great regret of the whole nation; especially as Henry, the second
son", did not afford such cheering hopes. Henry VII., by wise and cau-
tious measures, endeavoured to destroy the overgrown and pernicious
power of the nobles. Till his time, the great lords had the use of their
possessions for their lives only, and had not the liberty of alienating or
selling them; in consequence of which, such- accumulations took place in
some high families, that, by degrees, they became proprietors of the
greater part of the lands of the whole kingdom. To remedy this evil, the
king granted these great landholders permission to sell. They took ad-
— 188 —
vantage of this permission, and- parted with their lands, or portions of
them, to supply the cravings of dissipation and luxury. Private indivi-
duals, who had enriched themselves by industry, purchased them, and
thus the lower orders of citizens acquired that influence which the barons
lost; and a more even balance was established between the two orders.
This monarch patronized commerce and voyages of discovery, and
invited the illustrious navigator Columbus to enter into his service, which
was prevented only by an unlucky accident. In his reign Sebastian Ca-
bot, sailing from Bristol, discovered that part of America, called New-
foundland. He caused to be constructed an enormously large vessel, named
«the Great Henry», and by maintaining ships of his own, in fact laid
the foundation of that navy which is the grand bulwark of Britain, Before
his time, if the exigencies of the state required a fleet, the monarch had
no other means of providing one than hiring, or forcibly seizing the ves-
sels of the merchants. Henry died of consumption in the fifty-third year
of his life, A. D. 1509, and was buried in a magnificent chapel, which
he had built in Westminster Abbey, and which is still one of the greatest
ornaments of that venerable edifice. The favourite maxim of this sover-
eign was, «'When Christ came into the world, peace was sung, and
when he left it, peace was bequeathed)), and had this been the ruling
principle of preceding and successive sovereigns, much less bloodshed
and animosity, much less natural and moral evil, would have existed in
the world. (Holt).
17. Henry VIII.
Upon the decease of his father, Henry VIII. ascended the throne
without a rival, flourishing in youthful vigour and personal beauty, the
object of the best hopes and most pleasing expectations of his subjects.
Listening to the advice of his prudent grandmother, the countess of Rich-
mond, and Derby, he selected a wise and respectable council; he com-
pleted his marriage with Catherine, Avho having been espoused to his
brother Arthur, upon the pi-ince's lamented death was retained in Eng-
land to become his wife; he gave np to the resentment of the nation,
Dudley and Empson, the odious ministers of the exactions of Henry VII.
Adorned with manly and literary accomplishments, the young monarch
- 189 -
attracted the attention of civilized Europe, and his friendship was courted
by its greatest potentates. But this bright prospect was too soon obscured
by threatening clouds. Henry became extravagant, luxurious, intemper-
ate, and quickly lavished in useless and vain pomp, the immense trea-
sures which the late king had amassed. These he might have applied to
public benefit, and it was surely his duty so to do. In his alliances and
attachments he was extremely fickle and capricious. Sometimes he was
the friend of the gallant and romantic Francis I. of France, and at other
times he united himself with the cautions and crafty Charles V., Emperor
of Germany.
Youthful effervescence and activity of mind degenerated into violence
and cruelty, and he finally became an odious tyrant! Wolsey, a priest of
great abilities and learning, but cunning and ambitious, by flattering the
passions of Henry, and administering to his absurd and extravagant plea-
sures, gained almost his exclusive favour. He rose rapidly to the highest'
rank and offices; and was graced by the pope with the title of Cardinal.
This man, for a season, ruled insensibly the fiery monarch, and conse-
quently the whole realm. The parliaments were submissive, the king was
absolute, and English liberty appeared to be expiring. At this period,
Luther, a German ecclesiastic, began to attack the corruptions introdu-
ced, or at least countenanced by the Roman Pontiffs. Henry VIII., having
been intended for an ecclesiastical life, and destined to the archbishopric
of Canterbury, before his brother's death, had been educated in the
knowledge and practice of polemical theology. Proud of his attainment
Henry entered the lists with Luther, and defended the power of the
popes, and the seven Catholic sacraments. Pope Leo X. conferred upon the
royal disputant, the title of «Defender of the Faith, » little expecting
that this defender would finally sever England from the Holy See,
The passions of Henry VIII. were impetuous, and he had not acquired
the power of commanding them. But from what was a personal evil
to Henry himself and doubtless an apparent evil to those around, the in-
finitely wise and benevolent disposer of all events educed good. From
this source arose the freedom of England from ecclesiastical tyranny.
The king indulging a capricious fancy for Anne Boleyn, a beautiful and
accomplished young woman, one of the queen's attendants, in order to
marry her wished to obtain a divorce from Catherine. For this purpose
he applied to Pope Clement VII. to annul his uniou with his brother's
— 190 —
widow, as being unlawful, and pretending great scruples of conscience
on that account. Catherine of Arragon was the aunt of the powerful Char-
les V. of Germany, whose menaces deterred Clement from complying
with the request of Henry. Finding that he could not accomplish his plan,
the impatient spirit of the king burst forth into a flame. He disgraced
Cardinal Wolsey, who dared not support his temporal sovereign against
his spiritual lord; and the fallen favourite died of grief and mortified pride.
Cranmer, a learned ecclesiastic, who was soon after created arch-
bishop of Canterbury, devised the fortunate expedient of consulting the
most celebrated universities of Europe upon the legality of the marriage
with his brother's widow. The greater part of those learned bodies con-
demned such a union, and declared that the pope himself had not autho-
rity to sanction it. Whereupon, Henry repudiated Catherine, and substi-
tuted the object of his fickle affection in her place. Despising a bull of
excommunication which Clement published against him, the king indu-
ced his compliant Parliament to declare him head of the English church
instead of the pope, and to break off all connection with the Holy See.
Henry proceeded to expel the monks from their convents and to take
possession of their wealth, an act of cruel injustice. He persecuted to
death both protestants and papists who denied his supremacy over the
church, or presumed to profess religious opinions different from those
which he pretended to hold. He created six new bishoprics, caused the
Bible to be translated into English, and adopted partly the Romish and
partly the Reformed creed. Sir Thomas More, a man of solid learning,
great abilities and admirable character, who had succeeded Wolsey in
the office of Chancellor and had executed the duties of that important
office with undeviating integrity, together with Fisher, bishop of Ro-
chester, who deservedly enjoyed high reputation, were sacrificed by Hen-
ry's indiscriminating anger. In comparatively a short time, Henry's af-
fections were alienated from Anne Boleyn, and he caused her to be tried,
condemned, and beheaded, though evidently innocent of the charges
brought against her.
Immediately after her death, Henry married Jane Seymour, who be-
came the mother of Edward VI. Death removing her, this capricious
sovereign espoused Anne of Cleves, a Garman princess; but her he speed-
ily divorced, and disgraced Cromwell, an able statesman and zealous
friend of the reformation, for having advised that marriage. The tyrant
— 19i —
caused him to be impeached of high treason and beheaded, Catherine
Howard next succeeded to the dangerous dignity of queen, and experien-
ced the fate of Anne Boleyn. Catherine Parr, widow of Lord Latimer,
Henry's sixth wife, fortunately survived this sanguinary husband, though
she had a narrow escape; for the liing began to suspect that she presu-
med to differ from his religious opinions, and her enemies were urging
him to her destruction. In the mean time, Henry had absurdly engaged
in successive wars of no long duration, nor of great consequence; he
gained some advantages in France, and while he was in that country,
James IV. of Scotland, who had embraced this opportnuity of atlacking
England, v/as defeated and killed by the Earl of Surrey at Flodden field.
Henry VIII., rendered still more irritable than ever by disease, fortunate-
ly for his subjects at large, and yet more fortunately for those imme-
diately about his person, died A. D. 1547. (Holt).
18. Ring Edward VI.
Though considerable talents and attainments have not always been as-
sociated with eminent stations, a goodly number of the great are to be
found in the list of those who have been richly endowed by their Creator,
and have diligently improved his gifts. The young king Edward VI. stands
among the most prominent of these examples.
This aimiable prince was born in 1537, at Hampton Court. His mother
was Jane Seymour, the third wife of Henry VIII. At the early age of six
years, he was committed to the care of Sir Anthony Cook, and other
learned preceptors, who were intent on his improvement in spiritual know-
ledge, as well as in science and learning. The manner in which these
gentlemen performed their duties, and in which the prince improved,
may be ascertained from an account written by William Thomas, a learned
man, who was afterwards clerk of the council. He says —
«If ye knew the towardness of that young prince, your hearts would
melt to hear him named, and your stomach abhor the malice of them that
would him ill. The beautifulest creature that liveth under the sun,
the wittiest , the most amiable , and the gentlest thing of all the
world. Such a capacity in learning the things taught him by his school-
master, that it is a wonder to hearsay. And, finally, he has such a grace
— 192 —
of posture, and gesture in gravity, when he comes into a presence, that
is should seem he were already a father , and yet passes he not the age
of ten years. A thing, undoubtedly, much rather to be seen than believed*.
In his ninth year he wrote letters in Latin and French; and in the
British Museum are themes and orations in Latin, which he then com-
posed. Curio, the Italian reformer, told his tutors, «that by their united
prayers, counsels, and industry, they had formed a king of the highest,
even divine hopes ».
His ardent attachment and reverence to the Holy Scriptures are well
known; and Foxe tells us «that he was not wanting in diligence to re-
ceive whatever his instructors would teach him; so that, in the midst
of all his play and recreation, he would always keep the hours appointed
to study, using the same with much attention, till time called him again
from his book to pastime. ^ ,
«In this, his study and keeping of his hours, he so profited, that
Cranmer, beholding his towardness, his readiness in both tongues, in
translating from Greek to Latin, from Latin to Greek again, in declaiming,
with his schoolfellows, without help of his teachers, and that extempore,
wept for joy, declaring to Dr. Fox, his schoolmaster, that he would
never have thought it to have been in the prince, except he had seen
it himself » .
He became acquainted with seven languages, and well understood
logic and theology.
19. The Invincible Armada,
Philip, King of Spain, threatened to do greater things than ever had
been done yet, to set up the Catholic religion and punish ProtestantEngland.
Elizabeth , hearing that he and the Prince of Parma *) were making
great preparations for this purpose, in order to be before hand with them,
sent out Admiral Drake (a famous navigator who had sailed about the
world, and had already brought great plunder from Spain) to the port of
Cadix, where he burned a hundred vessels full of stores. This great loss
obliged the Spaniards to put off the invasion for a year, but it was none
the less formidable for that, amounting to 130 ships, 19000 soldiers,
8000 sailors , 2000 slaves , and between 20Ua and 3000 great guns.
*) The Pi'iuce of Parma, rjaeHOKOMaHflyiou^ifi $HJiHnaa.
— 193 —
England was not idle in making ready to resist this great force. All the
men between 16 years and 60 , were trained and drilled ; the national
fleet of ships (in number only 34 at first) was enlarged by public con-
tributions and by private ships, filled out by noblemen; theCity of London,
of its own accord, furnished double the number of ships and men that it
was required to provide; and if ever the national spirit was up inEngland,
it was up all through the country to resist the Spaniards. Some of the
Queen's advisers were for seizing the principal English Catholics , and
putting them to death; but the Queen rejected the advice, and only confined
a few of those who were the most suspected among them, in the fens in
Lincolnshire. The great body of Catholics deserved this confidence; for they
behaved most loyally, nobly, and bravely.
So, with all England firing up like one strong angry man, and with
both sides of the Thames fortified, and with the soldiers under arms, and
the sailors in their ships, the country waited for the coming of the proud
Spanish fleet which was called the Invincible Armada. The Queen her-
self, riding on a white horse, with armour on her back, and the Earl of
Essex and the Earl of Leicester holding her bridle rein , made a brave
speech to the troops at Tilbury Fort opposite Gravesend, which was received
with such enthusiasm as is seldom known. Then came the Spanish Armada
into the English Channel sailing along in the form of a half moon, of such
great size , that it was seven miles broad. But the English were quick
upon it , and woe then to all the Spanish ships that dropped a little out
of the half moon, for the English took them 'instantly. And it soon ap-
peared that the great Armada was anything but invincible, for, on a
summer night, bold Drake sent eight blazing fire-ships right into the midst
of it. In terrible consternation the Spaniards tried to get out to sea, and
so became dispersed; the English pursued them at a great advantage; a
storm came on, and drove the Spaniards among rocks and shoals; and
the swift end of the invincible fleet was that it lost thirty great ships and
10,000 men , and, defeated and disgraced , sailed home again. Being
afraid to go by the English Channel , it sailed all round Scotland and
Ireland; and some of the ships getting cast away on the latter coast in
bad weather , the Irish , who were a kind of savages , plundered those
vessels, and killed their crews. So ended this great attempt to invade and
conquer England. (Charles Dickens).
25
— 194 —
20. The Gunpowder Plot.
The Roman catholics had expected great favour and indulgence on
the accession of James, both as he was descended from Mary, whose life
they believed to have been sacrificed to their cause, and as he himself, in
his early youth , was imagined to have shown some partiality towards
them, which nothing, they thought, but interest and necessity had since
restrained. It is pretended, that he had even entered into positive engage-
ments to tolerate their religion, as soon as he should mount the throne
of England; whether their credulity had interpreted in this sense some
obliging expressions of the king's , or that he had employed such an
artifice , in order to render them favourable to his*title. Very soon they
discovered their mistake, and were at once surprised and enraged to find
James , on all occasions , express his intention of strictly executing the
laws enacted against them, and ofpersevering in all the rigorous measures
of Elizabeth. Catesby, a gentleman of good parts and of an ancient family,
first thought of a most extraordinary method of revenge; and he opened
his intention to Piercy, a descendant of the illustrious house of Northum-
berland. In one of their conversations with regard to the distressed con
dition of the catholics, Piercy having broken into a sally of passion, and
mentioned assassinating the king; Catesby took the opportunity of revealing
to him a nobler and more extensive plan oftreason, which not only included
a sure execution of vengeance , but afforded some hopes of restoring the
catholic religion in England. In vain, said he , would you put an end to
the king's life : he has children , who would succeed both to his crown
and maxims of government. In vain would you extinguish the whole royal
family: the nobility, the gentry, the parliament, are all infected with
the same heresy , and could raise to the throne another prince and
another family, who, besides their hatred to our religion, would be an-
imated with revenge for the tragical death of their predecessors. To serve
any good purpose, we must destroy, at one blow, the King, the royal
family, the lords, the commons, and bury all our enemies in one common
ruin. Happily, they are all assembled on the first meeting of the parliament,
and afford us the opportunity of glorious and useful vengeance. Great pre-
parations will not be requisite. A few of us, combining, may run a mine
below the hall, in which they meet; and choosing the very monient when
the king harangues both houses, consign over to destruction these determ-
— 195 —
ined foes to all piety and religion. Meanwhile, we ourselves standing
aloof, safe and unsuspected, shall triumph in being the instruments of
divine wrath, and shall behold with pleasure those sacrilegious walls,
in which were passed the edicts for proscribing our church and butcher-
ing her children, tossed into a thousand fragments; while their impious
inhabitants, meditating, perhaps, still new persecutions against us, pass
from flames above to flames below, there for ever to endure the torments
due to their offences.
Piercy was charmed with this project of Catesby; and they agreed to
communicate the matter to a few more, and among the rest to Thomas
Winter, whom they sent over to Flanders, in quest of Fawkes, an officer
in the Spanish service, with whose zeal and courage they were all tho-
roughly acquainted. When they inlisted any new conspirator, in order to
bind him to secrecy, they always, together with an oath, employed the
Communion, the most sacred right of their religion. And it is remark-
able, that no one of these pious devotees ever entertained the least com-
punction with regard to the cruel massacre which they projected, of what-
ever was great and eminent in the nation. Some of them only were start-
led by the reflection, that of necessity many catholics must be present,
as spectators or attendants to the king, or as having seats in the house
of peers: but Tesmond, a Jesuit, and Garnet, superior of that order in
England, removed these scruples, and showed them how the interests of
religion required that the innocent should here be sacrificed with the
guilty.
All this passed in the spring and summer of the year 1604; when
the conspirators also hired a house in Piercy's name, adjoining to that
in which the parliament was to assemble. Towards the end of that year
they began their operations. That they might be less interrupted, and
give less suspicions to the neighbourhood, they carried in store of pro-
visions with them, and never desisted from their labour. Obstinate in
their purpose, and confirmed by passion, by principle, and by mutual
exhortation, they little feared death in comparison of a disappointment;
and having provided arms, together with the instruments of their labour,
they resolved there to perish in case of discovery (1605). Their perse-
verance advanced the work; and they soon pierced the wall, though three
yards in thickness; but on approaching the other side, they were some-
what startled at hearing a noise, which they knew not how to account
— 196 —
for. Upon inquiry, they found (hat it came from the vault below the house
of Lords; that a magazine of coals had been kept there; and that, as the
coals were selling off, the vault would be let to the highest bidder. The
opportunity was immediately seized: the place hired by Piercy; thirty-
six barrels of powder lodged in it; the whole covered up with fagots and
billets; the doors of the cellar boldly flung open; and every body admit-
ted, as if it contained nothing dangerous.
Confident of success, they now began to look forward, and to plan
the remaining part of their project. The king, the queen, prince Henry,
were all expected to be present at the opening of parliament. The duke,
by reason of his tender age, would be absent; and it was resolved, that
Piercy should seize him, or assassinate him. The princess Elizabeth, a child
likewise, was kept at lord Harrington's house at Warwickshire ; and Sir
Everard Digby, Rockwood, Grant, being let into the conspiracy, engaged
to assemble their friends on pretence of a hunting-match, and seizing that
princess, immediately to proclaim her queen. So transported were they
with rage against their adversaries, and so charmed with the prospect of
revenge, that they forgot all care of their own safety; and trusting to the
general confusion, which must result from so unexpected a blow, they
foresaw not, that the fury of the people, now unrestrained by any authority,
must have turned against them, and would probably have satiated itself
by a universal massacre of the catholics.
The day, so long wished for, now approached, on which the parlia-
ment was appointed to assemble. The dreadful secret, though commu-
nicated to above twenty persons, had been religiously kept, during the
space of near a yearanda half. Noremorse, nopity, nofear ofpuishment,
no hope of reward, had as yet induced any one conspirator, either to abandon
the enterprise, or make a discovery of it. Theholy fury had extinguished
in their breast every other motive; and it was an indiscretion at last,
proceeding chiefly from these very bigoted prejudices and partialities,
which saved the nation.
Ten days before the meeting of parliament, lord Monteagle, a catho-
lic, son to lordMorley, received the following letter, which had been de-
livered to his servant by an unknown hand: «My lord, Out of the love I
bear to some of your friends, I have a care of your preservation. Therefore
I would advise you, as you tender your life, to devise some excuse to shift
off your attendance at this parliament. For God and man have concurred
I
— 197 —
to punish the wickedness of ^this time. And thinli not slightly of this
advertisement; but retire yourself into your couutry, where you may
expect the event in safety. For, though there be no appearance of any
stir, yet, I say, they will receive a terrible blow this parliament, and
yet they shall not see who hurts them. This counsel is not to be con-
temned, because it may do you good, and can do you no harm: for the
danger is past, as soon as you have burned th,e letter. And I hope God
will give you the grace to make good use of it, unto whose holy protec-
tion I commend you».
Monteagle knew not what to make of this letter; and though inclined
to think it a foolish attempt to frighten and ridicule him, he judged it
safest to carry it to lord Salisbury, secretary of state. Though Salisbury
too was inclined to pay little attention to it, he thought proper to lay it
before the king, who came to town a few days after. To the king it ap-
peared not so light a matter; and from the serious earnest style of the
letter, he conjectured that it implied something dangerous and important.
A terrible blow, and yet the authors concealed; a danger so sudden, and
yet so great; these circumstances seemed all to denote some contrivance
by gunpowder; and it was thought advisable to inspect all the vaults
below the houses of parliament. This care belonged to the earl of Suffolk,
lord chamberlain, who purposely delayed the search, till the day before
the meeting of parliament. He remarked those great piles of wood and
faggots, which lay in the vault under the upper house; and he cast his
eye upon Fawkes, who stood in a dark corner, and passed himself for
Piercy's servant, That daring and determined courage, which so much
distinguished this conspirator, even among those heroes in villany, was
fully painted in his countenance, and was not passed unnoticed by the
chamberlain. Such a quantity also of fuel for the use of one who lived
so little in town as Piercy, appeared a little extraordinary, and upon
camparing all circumstances, it was resolved that a more thorough in-
spection should be made. About midnight, sir Thomas Knevet, a justice
of peace, was sent with proper attendants; and before the door of the
vault finding Fawkes, who had just finished all his preparations, he im-
mediately seized him, and turning over the faggots, discovered the powder.
The matches and every thing proper for setting tire to the train were taken
in Fawkes's pocket; who finding his guilt now apparent, and seeing no re-
fuge but in boldness and despair, expressed the utmost rjegret, that he
— 198 - .
had lost the opportunity of firing the powder at once and of sweetening
his own death by that of his enemies. Before the council, he displayed
the same intrepid firmness, mixed even with scorn and disdain; re-
fusing to discover his accomplices, and shoAving no concern but for the
failure of the enterprise. This obstinacy lasted two or three days: but
being confined to the Tower, left to reflect on his guilt and danger, and
the rack being just shown to him; his courage, fatigued with so long an
effort, and unsupported by hope or society, at last failed him; and he
made a full discovery of all the conspirators.
Catesby, Piercy, aud the other criminals, who were in London, though
they had heard of the alarm taken at a letter sent so Monteagle; though
they had heard of the chamberlain's search; yet were resolved to persist
to the utmost, and never abandon their hopes of success. But at last,
hearing that Fawkes was arrested, they hurried down to Warwickshire;
where Sir Everard Digby, thinking himself assured th^t success -had at-
tended his confederates, was already in arms, in order to seize the prin-
cess Elizabeth. She had escaped into Coventry; and they were obliged
to put themselves on their defence against the country, who were raised
from all quarters, and armed, by the sheriff. The conspirators with all
their attendants, never exceeded the number of eighty persons; and being
surrounded on every side, could no longer entertain hopes, either of
prevailing or escaping. Having therefore confessed themselves, and re-
ceived absolution, they boldly prepared for death, and resolved to sell
their lives as dear as possible to the assailants. But even this miserable
consolation was denied them. Some of their powder took fire, and disabled
them for defence. The people rushed in upon them. Piercy and Catesby
were killed by one shot. Digby, Rockwood, Winter, and others, being
taken prisoners, were tried, confessed their guilt, and died, as well as
Garnet, by the hands of the executioner. Notwithstanding this horrid
crime, the bigoted catholics were so devoted to Garnet that they fancied
miracles to be wrought by his blood; and in Spain he was regarded as
a martyr.
Neither had the desperate fortune of the conspirators urged them to
this enterprise, nor had the former profligacy of their lives prepared
them for so great a crime. Before that audacious attempt, their conduct
seems, in general, to be liable to no reproach. Catesby's character had
entitled him to such regard, that Rockwood and Digby were seduced
~ 199 —
by their implicit trust in his judgment; and they declared that, from the
motive alone of friendship to him, they were ready, on any occasion, to
have sacrificed their lives. Digby himself was as highly esteemed and
beloved as any man in England; and he had been particularly honoured
with the good opinion of queen Elizabeth. It was bigoted zeal alone,
the most absurd of all prejudices masqued with reason, the most crimi-
nal of passions covered with the appearance of dut^, which seduced them
into measures, that were fatal to themselves, and had so nearly proved
fatal to their country.
The lords Blordaunt and Stourton, two catholics, were fined, the
former ten thousand pounds, the latter four thousand, by the Star-
Chamber; because their absence from parliament had begotten a suspicion
of their being acquainted with the conspiracy. The earl of Northumber-
land was fined thirty thousand pounds, and detained several years pris-
oner in the Tower; because, not to mention other grounds of suspicion,
he had admitted Piercy into the number of gentlemen pensioners, without
his taking the requisite oaths.
The king, in his speech to the parliament, observed, that though
religion had engaged the conspirators in so criminal an attempt, yet
ought we not to involve all the Roman catholics in the same guilt, or
suppose them equally disposed to commit such enormous barbarities.
Many holy men, he said, and our ancestors among the rest, had been
seduced to concur with that church in her scholastic doctrines; who yet
had never admitted her seditious principles, concerning the pope's power of
dethroning kings, or sanctifiyng assassination. The wrath of Heaven is
denounced against crimes, but innocent error may obtain its favour; and
nothing can be more hateful than the uncharitableness of the puritans,
who condemn alike to eternal torments, even the most inoffensive par-
tisans of popery. For his part, he added, that conspiracy, however
atrocious, should never alter, in the least, his plan of government; while
with one hand he punished guilt, with the other he would still support
and protect innocence. (Hume).
21. The Petition of Right (1628).
Some of the stipulations of Magna Charta were as suitable to the
necessities of after ages as to the circumstances of that period to which
— 200 —
it owes its origin, but this was the case in a remarkable degree in the
reigns of James I and Charles I. The latter monarch especially had grossly
violated its claims in manifold instances. He had, in the exercise of his
own will, unlawfully committed persons to prison . . . Instead of having-
offenders tried by a jury, they were brought before tribunals, over
which he exercised unlimited control: these were the Courts of High
Commission and the Star Chamber — the former for the examination of
religious offenders .... And to raise the money necessary to carry on
his wars on the continent, when he found the Commons unwilling to
vote him the supplies, he extorted money from the people in so many
unlawful ways that they would endure it no longer. The commons there-
fore drew up a petition, which asked for nothing but what the Magna
Charta conceded to them as a right, and then requested Charles to give
it the force of law by adding to it his signature. The King tried various
mean shifts to avoid signing the paper, but the sturdy Commons were
determined, and Charles was at length compelled to sign. It was passed
in 1628.
This famous document has always been known as the Petition of
Right, and has very properly been prized by the English people as a safe-
guard to tlieir liberties in no way inferior to the great Charter itself.
Its most important provisions, stated in plain, every day language, are
the following:
First. It was declared unlawful to molest or punish any person for
not lending money to the King, unless required to do so by Act of Par-
liament.
Secondly. No magistrate, judge, or peace-officer, was allowed to put
any one into prison, unless some clear charge could be made against him.
Thirdly. No prisoner should be refused the right of trial by jury.
Fourthly. Martial law was declared illegal, in the case of all offences
which properly ought to come before the courts of common law.
So long as the Courts of High Commission and Star Chamber existed,
however, Charles managed to make all these obligations of none effect.
22. The Puritans.
We would first speak of the Puritans, the most remarkable body of
men, perhaps, which the world has ever produced. The odious and ridi-
— 201 —
culous parts of the character lie on the surface. He that runs, may read
them; nor have there been wanting attentive and malicious observers to
point them out. For many years after the Restoration, they were the
theme of unmeasured invective and derision. They were exposed to the
utmost licentiousness of the press and of the stage, at the time when
the press and the stage were most licentious. They were not men of let-
ters; they were, as a body, unpopular; they could not defend themselves;
and the public would not take them under its protection. They were,
therefore, abandoned, without reserve, to the tender mercies of the sa-
tirists and dramatists. The ostentatious simplicity of their dress, their
sour aspect, their nasal twang, their stiff posture, their long graces, their
Hebrew names, the scriptual phrases which they introduced on every
occasion, their contempt of human learning, their detestation of polite
amusements, were indeed fair game for the laughers. But it is not from
the laughers alone that the philosophy of history is to be learnt. And he
who approaches this subject should carefully guard against the influence of
that potent ridicule which has already misled so many excellent writers.
Those who roused the people to resistance — who directed their
measures through a long series of eventful years — who formed, out of
the most unpromising materials, the finest army that Europe had ever
seen — who trampled down king, church, and aristocracy — who, in the
short intervals of domestic sedition and rebellion, made the name of Eng-
land terrible to every nation on the face of the earth, were no vulgar
fanatics. Most of their absurdities were mere external badges, like the
signs of freemasonry, or the dresses of friars. We regret that these bad-
ges were not more attractive; we regret that a body, to whose courage
and talents mankind has owed inestimable obligations, had not the lofty
elegance which distinguished some of the adherents of Charles I., or the
easy good breeding for which the court of Charles II. was celebrated.
But, if we must make our choice, we shall, like Bassanio in the play,
turn from the specious caskets which contain only the Death's head and
the Fool's head, and fix our choice on the plain leaden chest which con-
ceals the treasure.
The Puritans were men whose minds had derived a peculiar character
from the daily contemplation of superior beings and eternal interests. Not
content with acknowledging, in general terms, an overruling Providence,
they habitually ascribed every event to the will of the Great Being, for
26
— 202 -
whose power nothing was too vast, for whose inspection nothing was too
minute. To know him, to serve him, to enjoy him, was with them the
great end of existence. They rejected with contempt the ceremonious
homage which otlier sects substituted for the pure worship of the soul.
Instead of catcliing occasional glimpses of the Deity through an obscuring
vail, they aspired to gaze full on the intolerable brightness, and to commune
with him face to face/ Hence originated their contempt for terrestrial
distinctions. The difference between the greatest and meanest of mankind
seemed to vanish , when compared with the boundless interval which
separated the whole race from him on whom their own eyes were constantly
fixed. They recognized no title to superiority but his favour; and, confident
of that favour, they despised all the accomplishments and all the dignities
of the -world. If they were unacquainted with the works of philosophers
and poets , they were deeply read in the oracles of God; if their names
were not found in the registers of heralds , they felt assured that they
were recorded in the Book of Life; if their steps were not accompanied
by a splendid train of menials , legions of ministering angels had charge
over them. Their palaces were houses not made with hands; their diadems,
crowns of glory , which should never fade away ! On the rich and the
eloquent, on nobles and priests, they looked down with contempt; for
they esteemed themselves rich in a more precious treasure, and eloquent
in a more sublime language— nobles by the right of an earlier creation,
and priests by the imposition of a^ mightier hand. The very meanest of
them was a being to whose fate a mysterious and terrible importance
belonged — on whose slightest actions the spirits of light and darkness
looked with anxious interest — who had been destined, before heaven and
earth were created, to enjoy a felicity which should continue when heaven
and earth should havepassedaway. Events which short-sighted politicians
ascribed to earthly causes, had been ordained on his account. For his
sake, empires had risen, and flourished, and decayed; for his sake, the
Almighty had proclaimed his will by the pen of the evangelist, and the
harp of the prophet. He had been rescued by no common deliverer from
the grasp of no common foe; he had been ransomed hy the sweat of no
vulgar agony, by the blood of no earthly sacrifice. It was for him that
the sun had been darkened, that the rocks had been rent, that the dead
had arisen, that all nature had shuddered at the sufferings of her expiring
God ! (Macaulay).
— 203 —
23. Habeas Corpus Act (1679).
The object of this Act of Parliament was to prevent any one from
being kept in prison unlawfully, and unless the crime with which he was
charged could be fully proved against him.
The great importance of such an act can be understood even by a
child, if he will consider for a moment what could be the effect of his
own father's imprisonment for several weeks or months together. Of
course, his business would be neglected, his wife and family would be
left to starve, and very likely hisown health would be seriously impaired.
And yet, in the days of the Tudors and Stuarts, many persons of
all ranks were imprisoned, merely because they gave some slight offence
to the King or some of his favorites, although they were guilty of no
crime whatever. Moreover, they were kept in prison and not brought to
trial, as the Magna Charta and Petition of Right demanded. On this ac-
count, the parliament resolved upon obtaining a distinct law to prevent
such abuses of authority for the future; and a new act was worded in
such a way as to give every prisoner a right to what is called a writ of
habeas corpus — Latin words, which mean: «Thou mayst have the
body». When this writ was presented to the jailor, he was bound to
^ive up the prisoner, that he might appear before the judge and take
his trial.
Now let us suppose a man to be charged with some offence, for which it
is considered he ought to be punished according to law. He is taken before
a magistrate, and if the magistrate thinks there are good grounds for sending
him to prison, he signs a warrant, which is handed to the jailor, and which
authorises the jailor to keep the man in prison till another notice to the
contrary is received . . . The prisoner so situated now applies to his jailor
for a copy of the warrant, by authority of which he is detained. This is
sent to a judge who, on examining the warrant, will at once set him
at liberty, if there is not proper cause shown why he should be detained...
Or, secondly, he bails him, that is, allows him to go at large, if certain
persons of good character will give security for his appearance, at the
quarter sessions, assizes or other court ... Or, thirdly, he will re-
mand him, that is, send him to prison again till the assizes, etc.,
take place, when he would be tried before a jury of his own countrymen
— 204 —
and equals. By gradual instalments like these have EnglishraeD ob-
tained their liberties and privileges.
24. Earl of Nithsdale.
Among the persons, who were condemned to suffer, for their share
Id attempting to place the pretender on the British throne, in 1715, was
the Earl of Nithsdale: and there is no doubt but that he would have
shared the fate of the Earl of Derwentwater and the others, who had
suffered, had not his amiable wife effected his escape. This circum-
stance, exhibiting so strong an instance of courage and conjugal affection,
cannot be better related, than in the following extract of a letter from
the countess of Nithsdale to her sister, the countess of Traquair, in 1716.
«The next morning I could not go to the Tower, having so many
things in my hands to put in readiness; but in the evening, when all
was ready, I sent for Mrs. Mills, with whom I lodged, and acquainted
her with my design of attempting my lord's escape, as there was no
prospect of his being pardoned, and this was the last night before the
execution. I told her that I had every thing in readiness, and that I trust-
ed she would not refuse to accompany me, that my lord might pass for
her. I pressed her to come immediately, as we had no time to lose. At
the same time I sent for a Mrs. Morgan, then usually known by the name
of Hilton, to whose acquaintance my dear Evans had introduced me, and
to whom I immediately communicated my resolution. She was of a tall
and slender make; so I begged her to put under her own ridinghood onel
had prepared for Mrs. Mills, as she was to lend hers to my lord. Mrs.
Mills was then corpulent, so that she was not only of the same height,
but nearly the same size as my lord. When we were in the coach I nev-
er ceased talking, that they might have no leisure to reflect. Their sur-
prise and astonishment, when I first opened my design to them, had made
them consent, without ever thinking of the consequences. On our arrival
at the tower, the first I introduced, was Mrs. Morgan, for I was only
allowed to take one in at a time. She brought in the clothes, that were
to serve Mrs. Mills, when she left her own behind her. When Mrs. Mor-
gan had taken off, what she had brought for my purpose, I conducted
her back to the staircase, and, in going, I begged her to send me in my
i
— 205 —
maid to dress me: that I was afraid of being too late to present my last
petition, that night, and went partly downstairs to meet Mrs. Mills, who
had the precaution to hold her handkerchief to her face, as was very
natural for a woman to do, who was going to bid her last farewell to a
friend, on the eve of his execution. I had indeed desired her to do it,
that my lord might go out in the same manner. Her eyebrows were rather
inclined to be sandy, and my lord's were dark and very thick; however,
I had prepared some paint of the colour of hers to disguise them; I also
brought an artifical head dress of the same coloured hair as hers, and
painted his face with white, and his cheeks with rouge, to hide his long
beard , which he had not had time to shave. All this provision I
had before left in the tower. The poor guards, whom my slight li-
berality the day before, had endeared me to, let me go quietly with
my company, and were not so strictly on the watch as they usually
had been, and the more so, as from what I had told them, the day be-
fore, they were persuaded that the prisoners would obtain their pardon.
I made Mrs. Mills take off her own hood, and put on that, which I had
brought for her; I then took her by the hand, and led her out of my
lord's chamber; in passing through the next room, in which there were
several people, with all the concern imaginable, I said: My dear Mrs,
Catherine, go in all haste, and s-end me my waiting maid; she certainly
cannot reflect how late it is; she forgets, that I am to present a petition
to night, aud if I let slip this opportunity I am undone; for to-morrow will
be too late. Hasten her as much as possible; for I shall be on thorns till she
comes. Every person in the room, chiefly the guards' wives and daugh-
ters, seemed to compassionate me exceedingly, and the sentinel offi-
ciously opened the door. When I had seen her out, I returned back to my
lord, and finished dressing him. I had taken care that Mrs. Mills did
not go out crying, as she came in, that my lord might the better pass for
the lady, who came in crying and afflicted; and the more so, because he
had the same dress on, which she wore. When I had almost finished
dressing my lord in all my petticoats excepting one, I perceived that it
was growing dark, and was afraid that the light of the candles might
betray us, so I resolved to set out. I went out leading him by the hand;
and he held his handkerchief to his eyes. I spoke to him in the most
piteous and afflicted tone of voice, beAvailing bitterly the negligence of
Evans, who had ruined me by her delay. Then, said I, my dear Mrs.
— 206 —
Betty, for tlie love of God, run quickly and bring her with you. You
know my lodging, and if ever you made despatch in your life, do it at
present, fori am almost distracted with this dasappointment. The guards
opened the doors; and I went down stairs with him, still conjuring him
to make all possible despatch. As soon as he had cleared the door, I
made him walk before me, for fear the sentinel should take notice of his
gait; but I still continued to press him to make all the haste he possibly
could. At the bottom of the stairs I met my dear Evans, into whose
hands I confided him. I had before engaged Mr. Mills to be in readi-
ness, before the Tower, to conduct him to some place of safety, in case
We succeded. He looked upon the affair as so very improbable to succeed,
that his astonishment, when he saw us, threw him into such consterna-
ion, that he was almost beside himself, which Evans perceiving, without
telling him any thing, lest he should mistrust them, conducted my Lord
to some of her own friends, on whom she could rely, and so secured him,
without which we should have been undone. When she had conducted
him, and left him with them, she retarned to find Mr. Mills, who by
this time had recovered himself from his astonishment. They went
home together, and having found a place of security, they conducted
him to it».
After being concealed a few days in london, the Earl passed mih
the retinue, and in the livery of the Venetian ambassador, to Dover,
where, hiring a small vessel, he escaped to Calais, and thence travelled
to Rome, where he died in the year ilii.
25. Stratagem Signally Defeated.
A few days after the battle of Falkirk so disastrous to the English
army, Lord Loudon made a dashing attempt to seize the Pretender at
Moy, the account of which is thus narrated by the Chevalier Johnstone.
On the 16-th of February the prince slept at Moy, a castle belong-
ing to the chief of the clan of Mackintosh, about two leagues from In-
verness. Lord Loudon, lieutenant general in the service of King George,
and a colonel of a regiment of Highlanders, being at Inverness, with
about two thousand regular troops, the prince intended to wait the arri-
— 207 —
val of the other column, before approaching nearer to that town. In the
meantime, Lord Loudon formed the project of seizing by surprise the
person of the prince, who could have no suspicion of any attempt of
the kind , conceiving himself in perfect security at Moy ; and His
Lordship would have succeeded in his design, but for the intervention
of that invisible being, who frequently chooses to manifest his power,
in overturning the best contrived means of feeble mortals. His Lord-
ship, at three o'clock in the afternoon, posted guards, and a chain
of sentinels, all round Inverness, both within and without the town,
with positive orders not to suffer any person to leave it, on any pretext
whatever, of whatever rank the person might be. He ordered, at the
same time, fifteen hundred men to hold themselves in readiness to march
at a moment's warning; and having assembled this body of troops without
noise, he put himself at their head, and instantly set off, planning his
march so as to arrive at the castle of Moy about eleven o'clock at night.
Whilst some English officers were drinking in the house of Mrs.
Baily, an innkeeper of Inverness, and passing the time till the -hour of
their departure, her daughter, a girl of about thirteen or fourteen years
of age, who happened to wait on them, paid great attention to their
conversation, and, from certain expressions dropped from them, she
discovered their designs. As soon as this generous girl was certain as to
their intentions, she immediately le'ft the house, escaped from the town
notwithstanding the vigilance of the sentinels, and took the road to Moy,
running as fast as she was able, without shoes or stockings, which, to
accelerate her progress, she had taken off, in order to inform the prince
of the danger that menaced him. She reached Moy, quite out of breath,
before Lord Loudon; and the prince, with difficulty, escaped in his robe
de chambre, nightcap and slippers, to the neighbouring mountains, where
he passed the night in concealment. The dear girl, to whom the prince
owed his life, was in great danger of losing her own, from her excessive
fatigue on this occasion; but by the care and attentions she experienced,
her health was re-established. The prince having no suspicion af such a
daring attempt, had very few people with him in the castle of Moy.
As soon as the girl had spread the alarm, the blacksmith of the
village of Moy presented himself to the prince, and assured his Royal
Highness, that he had no occasion to leave the castle, as he would ans-
wer for it with his head, that Lord Loudon and his troops should be
— 208 — ■ ;
obliged to return faster tlian they came. The prince had not sufficient
confidence in his assurances, to neglect seeking safety by flight to the
neighbouring mountains. However, the blacksmith, for his own satisfac-
tion, put his project into execution. He instantly assembled a dozen of
his companions, and advanced with them about a quarter of a mile from
the castle, on the road to Inverness. There he laid an ambuscade, pla-
cing six of his companions on each side of the highway, to wait the ar-
rival of the detachment of Lord Loudon, enjoining them not to fire, tiU
he should tell them; and then not to fire together, but one after another.
When the head of the detachment of Lord Loudon was opposite the twelve
men, about eleven o'clock in the evening, the blacksmith called out,
with a loud voice: «Here come the villains, who intend carrying off our
prince; fire, my lads, do not spare them, give no quarter». In an instant,
muskets were discharged from each side of the road; and the detachment
seeing their project had taken wind, began to fly in the greatest disor-
der; imagining, that the whole army Avas lying in wait for them. Such
was their terror and consternation, that they did not stop till they had
reached Inverness. In this moment did a common blacksmith and twelve
of his companions put Lord Loudon and fifteen hundred of his regular
troops to flight. The fifer of His Lordship, who happened to be at the
head of the detachment, was killed at the first discharge; and the de-
tachment did not wait for a second.
26. The Country Gentlemen, Clergy, and Yeomanry.
We should be much mistaken, if we pictured to ourselves the squires
of the seventeenth century as men bearing a close resemblance to their
descendants, the country members and chairmen of quarter sessions, with
whom we are familiar. The modern country gentleman generally receives
a liberal education, passes from a distinguished school to a distinguished
college, and has every opportunity to become an excellent scholar. He
has generally seen something of foreign countries. A considerable part
of his life has generally been passed in the capital; and the refinements
of the capital follow him into the country. There is perhaps no class of
dwellings so pleasing as the rural seats of the English gentry. In the
parks and pleasure grounds, nature, dressed but not disguised, by art,
r
— 209 —
wears her most alluring form. In tlie buildings, good sense and good
taste combine to produce a happy union of the comfortable and the
graceful. The pictures, the musical instruments, the library, would in
any other country be considered as proving the owner to be an eminently
polished and accomplished man. A country genleman who witnessed the
Revolution, was probably in receipt of about a fourth part ofjhe rent
which his acres now yield to his posterity. He was, therefore, as com-
pared with his posterity, a poor man, and was generally under the ne-
cessity of residing, with little interruption, on his estate. To travel on
the Continent, to maintain an establishment in London, or even to visit
London frequently, were pleasures in which only the great proprietors
could indulge. It may be confidently affirmed that of the squires, whose
names were then in the Commissions of Peace and Lieutenancy, not one
in twenty went to town once in five years, or had ever irhis life wan-
dered so far as Paris. Many lords of manors had received an education
differing little from that of their menial servants. The heir of an estate
often passed his boyhood and youth at the seat of his family with no
better tutors than grooms and gamekeepers, and scarce attained learning
enough to sign his name to a Mittimus. If he went to school and to col-
lege, he generally returned before he was twenty to the seclusion of the old
hall, and there, unless his mind were very happily constituted by nature,
soon forgot his academical pursuits in rural business and pleasure. His
chief serious employment was the care of his property. He examined
samples of grain, handled pigs, and, on market days, made bargains,
over a tankard, with drovers and hop merchants. His chief pleasures
were commonly derived from field sports and from an unrefined sensual-
ity. His language and pronunciation were such as we should now ex-
pect to hear only from the most ignorant clowns. His oaths, coarse jests,
and scurrilous terms of abuse, were uttered with the broadest accent of
his province. It was easy to discern, from the first words which he spoke,
whether he came from Somersetshire or Yorkshire. He troubled himself
little about decorating his abode, and if he attempted decoration, seldom
produced anything but deformity. The litter of a farm-yard gathered
under the windows of his bed-chamber, and the cabbages and gooseberry
bushes grew close to his hall door. His table was loaded with coarse
plenty; and guests were cordially welcomed to it. But, as the habit of
drinking to excess was general in the class to which he belonged, and
27
- 210 —
as his fortune did not enable him to intoxicate large assemblies daily
with claret or canary, strong beer was the ordinary beverage. The quan-
tity of beer consumed in those days was indeed enormous. For beer then
was to the. middle and lower classes, not only all that it now is; but all
that wine, tea, aad ardent spirits now are. It was only at great houses,
or on great occasions, that foreign drink was placed on the board. The
ladies of the house, whose business it had commonly been to cook the
repist, retired as soon as the dishes had been devoured, and left the
gentlemen to their ale and tobacco. The coarse jollity of the afternoon
was often prolonged till the revellers were laid under the table.
It was very seldom that the country gentleman caught glimpses of
the great world; and what he saw of it tended rather to confuse than
to enlighten his understanding. His opinions respecting religion, govern-
ment, foreign countries, and former times, having been derived, not from
study, from observation, or from conversation with enlightened compan-
ions, but from such traditions as were current in his own small circle,
were the opinions of a child. He adhered to them, however, with the
obslinacy which is generally found in ignorant men accustomed to be fed
with flattery. His animosities were numerous and bitter. He hated
Frenchmen and Italians, Scotchmen and Irishmen, Papists and Presbyte-
rians, Independents and Baptists, Quakers and Jews. Towards London
and Londoners he felt an aversion which more than once produced im-
portant political effects. His wife and daughter were in tastes and ac-
quirements below a housekeeper or a still-room maid of the present day.
They stitched and spun, brewed gooseberry wine, cured marigolds, and
made the crust for the venison pasty.
From this description it might be supposed that the English esquire
of the seventeenth century did not materially differ from a rustic miller or
alehouse keeper of our time. There are, however, some important parts
of his character still to be noted, which will greatly modify his estimate.
Unlettered as he was, he was still in some most important points a
gentleman. He was a member of a proud and powerful aristocracy, and
was distinguished by many both of the good and of the bad qualities
which belong to aristocrats- His family pride was beyond that of a Talbot
or a Howard. He knew the genealogies and coats of arms of all his neigh-
bours, and could tell which of them had assumed supporters without any
— 211 —
right, and which of them were so unfortunate as to be great grandsons
of aldermen. He was a magistrate, and, as such, administered gratui-
tously to those who dwelt around him a rude patriarchal justice which,
in spite of innumerable blunders and of occasional acts of tyranny, was
yet better than no acts at all. He was an officer of the trainbands; and
his military dignity, though it might move the mirth of gallants who had
served a compaign in Flanders, raised his character in his own eyes and
in the eyes of his neighbours. Nor indeed was his soldiership justly a
subject of derision. In every county there were elderly gentlemen who
had seen service which was no child's play. One had been knighted by
Charles the First, after the battle of Edgehill. Another still wore a patch
over the scar which he had received at Naseby. A third had defended
his old house till Fairfax had blown in the door with a petard. The pre-
sence of these old cavaliers, with their old swords and holsters, and
with their old stories about Goring and Lunsford, gave to the musters of
militia an earnest and warlike aspect which would otherwise have been
wanting. Even those country gentlemen who were too young to have
themselves exchanged blows with the cuirassiers of the Parliament had,
from childhood, been surrounded by the traces of recent war, and fed
with stories of the martial exploits of their fathers and uncles. Thus the
character of the English esquire of the seventeenth century was compound-
ed of two elements which we are not accustomed to find united. His
ignorance and uncouthness, his low tastes and gross phrases, would, in
our time, be considered as indicating a nature and a breeding thoroughly
plebeian. Yet he was essentially a patrician, and had, in large measure,
both the. virtues and the vices which flourish among men set from their
birth in high place, and accustomed to authority, to observance, and to
self-respect. It is not easy for a generation, which is accustomed to find
chivalrous sentiments only in company with liberal studies and polished
manners, to imagine to itself a man with the deportment, the vocabulary,
and the accentof a carter, yet punctilious on matters of genealogy and prece-
dence, and ready to risk his life rather than see a stain cast on the honour
of his house. It was however only by thus joining together things seldom or
never found together in our own experience, that we can form a just
idea of that rustic aristocracy which constituted the main strength of
the armies of Charles the First, and which long supported, with strange
fidelity, the interest of his descendants.
— 212 —
The gross, uneducated, uutravelled country gentleman was com-
monly a Tory: but, though devotedly attached to hereditary monarchy, he
had no partiality for courtiers and ministers. He thought, not without
reason, that Whitehall was filled Avith the most currupt of mankind; that
of the great sums which the House of Commons had voted to the crown
since the Restoration, part had been embezzled by cunning politicians,
and part squandered on buffoons and foreign courtesans. His stout Eng-
lish heart swelled with indignation at the thought that the government
of his country should be subject to French dictation. Being himself ge-
nerally on old Cavalier, or the son of an old Cavalier, he reflected with
bitter resentment on the ingratitude with which the Stuarts had requited
their bests friends. Those who heard him grumble at the neglect with
which he was treated, and at the profusion with which wealth was lav-
ished on the bastards of NeH Gwynn and Madam Carwell, would have
supposed him ripe for rebellion. But all this humour lasted only till the
throne was really in danger. It was precisely when those whom the so-
vereign had loaded with wealth and honours s.hrank from his side that
the country gentlemen, so surly and mutinous in the season of his pros-
perity, rallied round him in a body. Thus, after murmuring twenty
years at the misgovernment of Charles the Second, they, came to his
rescue in his extremity, when his own Secretaries of State and Lords of
the Treasury had deserted him, and enabled him to gain a complete
victory over the opposition; nor can there be any doubt that they would
have shown equal loyalty to his brother James, if James would, even at
the last mom.ent, have refrained from outraging their strongest feeling.
For there was one institution, and one only, which they prized even
more than hereditary monarchy; and that institution was the Church of
England. Their love of the Church was not, indeed, the effect of study
and meditation. Few among them could have given any reason, drawn
from Scripture or Ecclesiastical history, for adhering to her doctrines,
, her ritual, and her polity; nor were they, ,as a class, by any means
strict observers of that code of morality, which is common to all Christian
sects. But the experience of many ages proves that men may be ready
to fight to the death, and to persecute without pity, for a religion whose
creed they do not understand, and whose precepts they habitually disobey.
The rural clergy were even more vehement in Toryism than the
rural gentry, and were a class scarcely less important. It is to be ob-
_ 213 —
served, however, that the individual clergyman, as compared with the
individual gentleman, then ranked much lower than in our days. The
main support of the Church was derived from the tithe; and the tithe
bore to the rent a much smaller ratio than at present. King estimated the
whole income of the parochial and collegiate clergy at only four hundred
and eighty thousand pounds a year; Davenant at only five hundred and
forty-four thousand a year. It is certainly now more than seven times as
great as the larger of these two sums. The average rent of the hind has
not, according to any estimate, increased proportionally. It follows that
rectors and vicars must have been, as compared with the neighbouring
knights and squires, much poorer in the seventeenth than in the nine-
teenth century.
The place of the clergyman in society had been completely changed
by the Reformation. Before that event, ecclesiastics had formed the ma-
jority of the House of Lords, had, in wealth and splendour, equalled and
sometimes outshone, the greatest of the temporal barons, and had gene-
rally held the highest offices. The Lord Treasurer was often a Bishop.
The Lord Chancellor was almost always so. The Lord Keeper of the Privy
Seal and the Master of the Rolls were ordinarily churchmen. Churchmen
transacted the most important diplomatic business.. Indeed, almost all
that large portion of the administration, which rude and warlike nobles
were incompetent to conduct, was considered as especially belonging to
divines. Men, therefore, who were averse to the life of camps, and who
were, at the same time, desirous to rise in the state, ordinarily receiv-
ed the tonsure. Among them were sons of all the most illustrious fami-
lies, and near kinsmen of the throne. Scroops and Nevilles, Bourchiers,
Staffords, and Poles. To the religious houses belonged the rents of im-
mense domains, and all that large portioii of the tithe, which is now in
the hands of laymen. Down to the middle of the reign of Henry the Eighth,
therefore, no line of life bore so inviting an aspect to ambitious and co-
vetous natures as the priesthood. Then came a violent revolution. The
abolition of the monasteries deprived the Church at once of the greater
part of her wealth, and of her predominance in the Upper House of Par-
liament. There was no longer an abbot of Glastonburg or an Abbot of
Reading seated among the peers, and possessed of revenues equal to
those of a powerful Earl. The princely splendour of William of Wykeham
and of William of Waynflete had disappeared. The scarlet hat of the Car-
— 214 —
dinal, the silver cross of the Legate, were no more. The clergy had also
lost the ascendancy which is the natural reward of superior mental culti-
vation. Once the circumstance that a man could read had raised a pre-
sumption that he was in orders. But, in an age which produced such
laymen as William Cecil and Nicholas Bacon, Roger Ascham and Thomas
Smith, Walter Mildmay and Francis Walsingham, there was no reason
for calling away prelates from their dioceses to negotiate treaties, to
superintend the finances, or to administer justice. The spiritual character
not only ceased to be a qualification for high civil office, hut began to
be regarded as a disqualification. Those worldly motives, therefore, which
had formerly induced so many able, aspiring and high born youths to
assume the ecclesiastical habit, ceased to operate. Not one parish in two
hundred then afforded what a man of family considered as a mainte-
nance. There were still indeed prizes in the Church: but they were few;
and even the highest were mean, when compared with the glory which
had once surrounded the princes of the hierarchy. The state kept by Par-
ker and Grindal seemed beggarly to those who remembered the imperial
pomp of Wolsey, his palaces, which had become the favourite abodes of
royalty, Whitehall and Hampton Court, the three sumptuous tables daily
spread in his refectory, the forty- four gorgeous copes in his chapel, his
running footmen in rich liveries, and his body guards with gilded pole-
axes. Thus the sacerdotal office lost its. attraction for i\\(i higher classes.
During the century which followed the accession of Elizabeth, scarce a
single person of noble descent took orders. At the close of the reign of
Charles the Second, two sons of peers were Bishops; four or five sons
of peers were priests, and held valuable preferment : but these rare ex-
ceptions did not take away the reproach which lay on the body. The
clergy were regarded as, on the whole, a plebeian class. And, indeed,
for one who made the figure of a gentleman, ten were mere menial ser-
vants. A large proportion of those divines, who had no benefices, or
whose benefices were too small to afford a comfortable revenue, lived in
the houses of laymen. It had long been evident that this practice tended
to degrade the priestly character. Laud had exerted himself to effect a
change; and Charles the First had repeatedly issued positive orders that
none but men of high rank should presume to keep domestic chaplains.
But these injunctions had become obsolete. Indeed, during the domina-
tion of the Puritans, many of the ejected ministers of the Church of Eng-
— 215 —
land could obtain bread and shelter only by cittaching themselves to the
households of royalist gentlemen; and the habits, which had been formed
in those times of trouble, continued long after the reestablisliment of mon-
archy and episcopacy. In the mansions of men of liberal sentiments and
cultivated understandings, the chaplain was doubtless treated with ur-
banity and kindness. His conversation, his literary assistance, his spirit-
ual advice, were considered as an ample return for his food, his lodging,
and his stipend. But this was not the general feeling of the country
gentlemen. The coarse and ignorant squire, who thought that it belonged
to his dignity to have grace said every day at his table by an ecclesiastic
in full canonicals, found means to reconcile dignity with economy. A
young Levite — such was the phrase then in use — might be had for
his board, a small garret, and ten pounds a year, and might not only
perform his own professional functions, might not only be the most pa-
tient of butts and of listeners, might not only be always ready in fine
weather for bowls, and in rainy weather for shovel-board, but might also
save the expense of a gardener, or of a groom. Sometimes the reverend
man nailed up the apricots, and sometimes he curried the coach horses.
He cast up the farrier's bills. He walked ten miles with a message or a
parcel. He was permitted to dine with the family; but he was expected
to content himself with the plainest fare. He might fill himself with the
corned beef and the carrots: but, as soon as the tarts and cheese cakes
made their appearance, he quitted his seat, and stood aloof till he was
summoned to return thanks for the repast, from a great part of which
he had been excluded.
Perhaps, after some years of service, he was presented to a living
sufficient to support him: but he often found it necessary to purchase his
preferment by a species of Simony, which furnished an inexhaustible
subject of pleasantry to three or four generations of scoffers. With his
cure he was expected to take a wife. The wife had ordinarily been in the
patron's service; and it was well if she was not suspected of standing too
high in the patron's favour. Indeed, the nature of the matrimonial con-
nections, which the clergymen of that age were in the habit of forming,
is the most certain indication of the place which the order held in the
social system. An Oxonian, writing a few months after the death of Char-
les the Second, complained bitterly, not only that the country attorney
and the country apothecary looked down with disdain on the country
— 216 —
clergyman, but that one of the lessons most earnestly inculcated on every
girl of honourable family was to give no encouragement to a lover in or-
ders, and that, if any young lady forgot this precept, she was almost as
much disgraced as by an illicit amour. Clarendon, who assuredly bore
no ill will to the Church, mentions it as a sign of the confusion of ranks,
which the great rebellion had produced, that some damsels of noble fa-
milies had bestowed themselves on divines. A waiting woman was gene-
rally considered as the most suitable helpmate for a parson. Queen Eli-
zabeth,' as head of the Church, had given what seemed to be a formal
sanction to this prejudice, by issuing special orders that no clergyman
should presume to marry a servant girl, without the consent of the master
or mistress. During several generations accordingly the relation between
priests and handmaidens was a theme for endless jest; nor would it be
easy to find, in the comedy of the seventeenth century, a single instance
of a clergyman who wins a spouse above the rank of a cook. Even so
late as the time of George the Second, the keenest of all observers of life
and manners, himself a priest, remarked that, in a great household, the
chaplain was the resource of a lady's maid whose character had been
bown upon, and who was therefore forced to give up hopes of catching
the steward.
In general the divine, who quitted his chaplainship for a benefice and
a wife, found that he had only exchanged one class of vexations for ano-
ther. Not one living in fifty enabled the incumbent to bring up a family
comfortably. As children multiplied and grew, the household of the
priest became more and more beggarly. Holes appeared more and more
plainly in the thatch of his parsonage and in his single cassock. Often
it was only by toiling on his glebe, by feeding swine, and by loading
dung-carts, that he could obtain daily bread; nor did his utmost exer-
tions always prevent the bailiffs from taking his concordance and his
inkstand in execution. It was a white day on which he was admitted
into the kitchen of a great house, and regaled by the servants with cold
meat and ale. His children were brought up like the children of the neigh-
bouring peasantry. His boys followed the plough; and his girls went out
to service. Study he found impossible: for the advowson of his living
would hardly have sold for a sum sufficient to purchase a good theologic-
al library; and he might be considered as unusually lucky, if he had
ten or twelve dog-eared volumes among the pots and pans on his shelves.
— 217 —
Even a keen and strong intellect might be expected to rust in so unfa-
vourable a situation.
Assuredly there was at that time no lack in the English Church of
ministers distinguished by abilities and learning. But it is to be observed
that these- ministers were not scattered among the rural population. They
were brought together at a few places where the means of acquiring
knowledge were abundant, and where the opportunities of vigorous in-
tellectual exercise were frequent. At such places were to be found divines
qualified by parts, by eloquence, by wide knowledge of literature, of
science, and of life, to defend their Church victoriously against heretics
and sceptics, to command the attention of frivolous and worldly congre-
gations, to guide the deliberations of senates, and to make religion re-
spectable, even in the most dissolute of courts. Some laboured to fathom
the abysses of metaphysical theology; some were deeply versed in biblical
criticism; and some threw light on the darkest parts of ecclesiastical his-
tory. Some proved themselves consummate masters of logic. Some cul-
tivated rhetoric with such assiduity and success that their discourses are
still justly valued as models of style. These eminent men were to be
found, with scarce a single exception, at the Universities, at the great
Cathedrals, or in the capital. Barrow had lately died at Cambridge; and
Pearson had gone thence to the episcopal bench. Cudworth and Henry
More were still living there. South andPococke, Jane and Aldrich, were
at Oxford. Prideaux was in the close of Norwich , and Whitby in the
close of Salisbury. But it was chiefly by the London clergy, who were
always spoken of as a class apart, that the fame of their profession for
learning and eloquence was upheld. The principal pulpits of the metro-
polis were occupied about this time by a crowd of distinguished men,
from among whom was selected a large proportion of the rulers of the
Church. Sherlock preached at the Temple, Tillotson at Lincoln's Inn,
Wake and Jeremy Collier at Gray's Inn, Burnet at the Rolls, Stillingfleet
at St. Paul's Cathedral, Patrick at St. Paul's, Covent Garden, Fowler at
St. Giles's, Cripplegate, Sharp at St. Giles's in the Fields, Tenison at
St. Martin's, Sprat at St. Margaret's, Beveridge at St. Peter's in Corn-
hill. Of these twelve men, all of high note in ecclesiastical history, ten
became Bishops, and four Archbishops. Meanwhile almost the only im-
portant theological works, which came forth from a rural parsonage, were
those of George Bull, afterwards Bishop of St. David's; and Bull never
28
— 218 -^
would have produced those works, had he not inherited an estate, by
the sale of which he was enabled to collect a library, such as probably no
other country clergyman in England possessed.
Thus the Anglican priesthood was divided into two sections which,
in acquirements, in manners, and in social position, differed widely from
each other. One section, trained for cities and courts, comprised men
familiar with all ancient and modern learning; men able to encounter Hob-
bes or Bossuet at all the weapons of controversy; men who could, in
their sermons, set forth the majesty and beauty of Christianity with such
justness of thought, and such energy of language, that the indolent Charles
roused himself to listen, and the fastidious Buckingham forgot to sneer;
men whose address, politeness, and knowledge of the world qualified them
to manage the consciences of the wealthy and noble; men with whom
Halifax loved to discuss the interests of empires, and from whom Dryden
was not ashamed to own that he had learned to write. The other section
was destined to ruder and humbler service. It was dispersed over the
country, and consisted chiefly of persons not at all wealthier, and not much
more refined, than small farmers or upper servants. Yet it was in these
rustic priests, who derived but a scanty subsistence from their tithe sheaves
and tithe pigs, and who had not the smallest chance of ever attaining
high professional honours , that the professional spirit, was strongest.
Among those divines who were the boast of the Universities and the
delight of the capital, and who had attained, or might reasonably expect
to attain, opulence and lordly rank, a party, respectable in numbers and
more respectable in character, leaned towards constitutional principles of
government, lived on friendly terms with Presbyterians, Independents,
and Baptists, would gladly have seen a full toleration granted to all pro-
testant sects, and would even have consented to make alterations in the
Liturgy, for the purpose of conciliating honest and candid Nonconformits.
But such latitudinarianism was held in horror by the country parson. He
was, indeed, prouder of his native gown than his superiors oftheir lawn
and their scarlet hoods- The very consciousness that there was little in
his worldly circumstances to distinguish him from the villagers to whom
he preached led him to hold immoderately high the dignity of that sa-
cerdotal office which was his single title to reverence. Having lived in
seclusion, and having had little opportunity of correcting his opinions
|3y reading or conversation, he held and taught the doctrines of indefeais-
— 219 —
ible hereditary right, of passive obedience, and of nonresistance in all
their crude absurdity. Having been long engaged in a petty war against
the neighbouring dissenters, he too often hated them for the wrongs
which he had done them, and found no fault with the Five Mile Act and
the Conventicle Act, except that those odious laws had no sharper edge.
Whatever influence his office gave him was exerted with passionate zeal
on the Tory side; and that influence was immense. It would be a great
error to imagine, because the country rector was in general not regarded
as a gentleman, because he could not dare to aspire to the hand of one
of the young ladies of the manor house, because he was not asked into
the parlours of the great, but was left to drink and smoke with grooms
and butlers, that the power of the clerical body was smaller than at
present. The influence of a class is by no means proportioned to the
consideration which the members of that class enjoy in their individual
capacity. A Cardinal is a much more exalted personage than a begging
friar: but it would be a grievous mistake to suppose that the College of
Cardinals has exercised a greater dominion over the public mind of Eu-
rope than the Order of Saint Francis. In Ireland, at present, a peer holds
a far higher station in society than a Roman Catholic priest: yet there
are in Munster and Cannaught few counties where a combination of priests
would not carry an election against a combination of peers. In the seven-
teenth century the pulpit was to a large portion of the population what
the periodical press now is. Scarce any of the clowns who came to the
parish church ever saw a Gazette or a political pamphlet. Ill informed
as their spiritual pastor might be, he was yet better informed than them-
selves : he had every week an opportunity of haranguing them ; and his
harangues were never answered. At every important conjuncture, invect-
ives against the Whigs and exhortations to obey the Lord's anointed
resounded at once from many thousands of pulpits; and the effect was
formidable indeed. Of all the causes which, after the dissolution of the
Oxford Parliament, produced the violent reaction against the Exclusionists,
the most potent seems to have been the oratory of the country clergy.
The power, which the country gentlemen and the country clergymen
exercised in the rural districts, was in some measure counterbalanced by
the power of the yeomanry, an eminently manly and truehearted race.
The petty proprietors who cultivated their own fields with their own
hands, and enjoyed a modest competence, without affecting to have
— 220 —
scutcheons and crests, or aspiring to sit on the bench of justice, then
formed a much more important part of the nation than at present. If we
may trust the best statistical writers of that age, not less than a hundred
and sixty thousand proprietors, who with their families must have made
up more then a seventh of the whole population, derived their subsistence
from little freehold estates. The average income of these small landhold-
ers, an income made up of rent, profit, and wages, was estimated at
between sixty and seventy pounds a year. It was computed that the num-
ber of persons who tilled their own land was greater than the number of
those who farmed the land of others. A large portion of the yeomanry
had, from the time of the Reformation, leaned towards Puritanismn, had,
in the civil war, taken the side of the Parliament, had, after the Re-
storation, persisted in hearing Presbyterian and ludepended preachers,
had, at elections, strenuously supported theExclusionists,and had contin-
ued, even after the discovery of the Rye House plot *) and the pro-
scription of the Whig leaders, to regard Popery and arbitrary power with
unmitigated hostility. (Macaulay.)
27. Difficulty of Travelling.
It was by the highways that both travellers and goods generally
passed from place to place. And those highways appear to have been
far worse than might, have been expected from the degree of Avealth
and civilisation, which the nation had even then attained. On the best
lines of communication the ruts were deep , the descents precipitous ,
and the way often such as it was hardly possible to distinguish , in
the dusk, from the uninclosed heath and fen which lay on both sides. '
Ralph Thoresby, the antiquary, was in danger of losing his way on
the great North road, between Barnby Bloor and Tuxford, and actu-
ally lost his way between Doncaster and York. Pepys and his wife,
travelling in their own coach, lost their way between Newbury and
Reading. In the course of the same tour they lost their way near Sa-
•) The Rye House plot, saroBopi), cocTaBaeHHtiS ;^Jifi ySienia Kapja II h ero
6paTa, repuora lopKCitaro, iiasBaHHtiS TaK-B no Haxo;^aL^e8ca Ha yjiHi;*, BCAymefi
btj HbiOMapiteTTj, oepii'h, HasHaneHHoS ;;-!» coBepiuenia ySificTBa. Ho raKi. KaKi.
Ji;OM'b, Bt KOTOpOMT. KapjITj 06HKH0BeHH0 HMtJITj Upe6blBaHie BTj HblOMapKT'fe, cjy-
^afiflo sarop'fejicfi, to Kopojis ocTaBHJt-B ropoRt BoceMbio j^naum panbuie ntMij tujui
HaMtpcHTj cnepsa, h STOMy o6cToaTejibCTBy oSaaamj GbiJi't cbohmtj cnacemeMt.
— 221 —
lisbury, and were in danger of having to pass the night on the plain.
It was only in fine weather that the whole breadth of the road was
available for wheeled vehicles. Often the mud lay deep on the right
and the left; and only a narrow track of firm ground rose above the
quagmire. At such times obstructions and quarrels were frequent, and
the path was sometimes blocked up during a long time by carriers,
neither of whom would break the way. It happened, almost every day,
that coaches stuck fast, until a team of cattle could be procured from
some neighbouring farm, to tug them out of the slough. But in bad
seasons the traveller had to encounter inconveniences still more serious.
Thoresby, who was in the habit of travelling between Leeds and the
capital, has recorded, in his Diary, such a series of perils and dis-
asters as might suffice for a journey to the Frozen Ocean or to the
Desert of Sahara. On one occasion he learned that the floods were out
between Ware and London, that passengers had to swim for their li-
ves, and that a higgler had perished in the attempt to cross. In con-
sequence of these tidings he turned out of the high road, and was
conducted across some meadows, where it was necessary for him to
ride to the saddle skirts in water. In the course of another journey
he narrowly escaped being swept away by an inundation of the Trent.
He was afterwards detained at Stamford four days, on account of the
state of the roads, and then ventured to proceed only because fourteen
members of the. House of Commons, who were going up in a body
to Parliament with guides and numerous attendants, took him into their
company. On the roads of Derbyshire travellers were in constant fear
for their necks, and were frequently compelled to alight and lead their
beasts. The great route through Wales to Holyhead was in such a
state that, in 1685, a viceroy, going to Ireland, was. five hours in
travelling fourteen miles, from Saint Asaph to Conway. Between Con-
way and Beaumaris he was forced to walk great part of the way; and
his lady was carried in a litter. His coach was, with great difficulty,
and by the help of many hands, brought after him entire. In general,
carriages were taken to pieces at Conway, and borne, on the shoul-
ders of stout Welsh peasants, to the Menai Straits. In some parts of
Kent and Sussex none but the strongest horses could, in winter, get
through the bog, in which, at every step, they sank deep. The mar-
kets were often inaccessible during several months. It is said that the
- 222 —
fruits of the earth were sometimes suffered to rot in one place, while
in another place, distant only a few miles, the supply fell far short
of the demand. The wheeled carriages were, in this district, generally
pulled by oxen. When Prince George of Denmark visited the stately
mansion of Petworth in wet weather, he was six hours in going nine
miles; and it was necessary that a body of sturdy hinds should be
on each side of his coach, in order to prop it. Of the carriages which
conveyed his retinue several were upset and injured. A letter from
one of his gentlemen in waiting has been preserved, in which the un-
fortunate courtier complains that , during fourteen hours , he never
once alighted , except when his coach was overturned or stuck fast
in the mud.
One chief cause of the badness of the roads seems to have been
the defective state of the law. Every parish was bound to repair the
highways which passed through it. The peasantry were forced to give
their gratuitous labour six days in the year. If this was not sufficient,
hired labour was employed, and the expense was met by a parochial
rate. That a route connecting two great towns , which have a large
and thriving trade with each other, should be maintained at the cost
of the rural population scattered between them is obviously unjust;
and this injustice was peculiarly glaring in the case of the great North
road , which traversed very poor and thinly inhabited districts , and
joined very rich and populous districts. Indeed it was- not in the pow-
er of the parishes of Huntingdonshire to mend a highway worn by
the constant traffic between the West Riding of Yorkshire and London.
Soon after the Restoration this grievance attracted the notice of Par-
liament; and an act, the first of our many turnpike acts, was passed,
imposing a small toll on travellers and goods, for the purpose of keep-
ing some parts of this important line of communication in good repair.
This innovation, however, excited many murmurs; and the other great
avenues to the capital were long left under the old system. A change
was at length effected , but not without much difficulty. For unjust
and absurd taxation to which men are accustomed is often borne far
more willingly than the most reasonable impost which is new. It was
not till many toll bars had been violently pulled down, till the troops
had in many districts' been forced to act against the people, and till
much blood had been shed, that a good system was introduced. By
— 223 —
slow degrees reason triumphed over prejudice ; and our island is
now crossed in every direction by near thirty thousand miles of turn-
pike road.
On the best highways heavy articles were, in the time of Charles
the Second, generally conveyed from place to place by stage waggons.
In the straw of these vehicles nestled a crowd of passengers, who could
not afford to travel by coach or on horseback, and who were prevented
by infirmity, or by the weight of their luggage, from going on foot. The
expense of transmitting heavy goods in this way was enormous. From
London to Birmingham the charge was seven pounds a ton; from London
to Exeter twelve pounds a ton. This was about fifteen pence a ton for
every mile, more by a third than was afterwards charged on turnpike
roads, and fifteen times what is now demanded by railway companies.
The cost of conveyance amounted to a prohibitory tax on many useful
articles. Coal in particular was never seen except in the districts where
it was produced, or in the districts to which it could be carried by sea,
and was indeed always known in the south of England by the name of
sea coal.
On byroads, and generally throughout the country north of York and
west of Exeter, goods were carried by long trains of packhorses. These
strong and patient beasts, the breed of which is now extinct, were at-
tended by a class of men who seem to have borne much resemblance to
the Spanish muleteers. A traveller of humble condition often found it
convenient to perform a journey mounted on a pack-sajjdle between two
baskets, under the care of these hardy guides. Theexpence of this mode
of conveyance was small. But the caravan moved at a foot's pace; and
in winter the cold was often insupportable.
The rich commonly travelled in their own carriages, with at least
four horses. Cotton, the facetious poet, attempted to go from London to
the Peak with a single pair, but found at Saint Albans that the journey
would be insupportably tedious, and altered his plan. A coach and six
is in our time never seen, except as part of some pageant. The frequent
mention therefore of such equipages in old books is likely to mislead
us. We attribute to magnificence what was really the effect of a very
disagreeable necessity. People, in the time of Charles the Second, tra-
velled with six horses, because with a smaller number there was great
danger "of sticking fast in the mire. Nor were even six horses always
■ — 224 —
sufficient. Vanbrough, in the succeeding generation, described with great
humour the way in which a country gentleman, newly chosen a member
of Parliament, went up to London. On that occasion all the exertions
of six beasts, two of which had been taken from the plough, could not
save the family coach from being imbedded in a quagmire.
Public carriages had recently been much improved. During the years
which immediately followed the Piestoration, a diligence ran between
London and Oxford in two days. The passengers slept at Beaconsfield.
At length, in the spring of 1669, a great and daring innovation was
attempted. It was announced that a vehicle , described as the -Flying
Coach, would perform the whole journey between sunrise and sun-
set. This spirited undertaking was solemnly considered and sanc-
tioned by the Heads of the University, and appears to have excited
the same sort of interest which is excited in our own time by the
opening of a new railway. The Vicechancellor, by a notice affix-
ed in all public places, prescribed the hour and place of departure.
The success of the experiment was complete. At six in the morn-
ing the carriage began to move from before the ancient front of All
Souls College : and at seven in the evening the adventurous gentlemen
who had run the first risk were safely deposited at their inn in London.
The emulation of the sister University was moved; and soon a dili-
gence was set up which in one day carried passengers from Cambridge
to the capital. At the close of the reign of Charles the Second, flying car-
riages ran thrice a week from London to the chief towns. But no stage
coach, indeed no stage waggon, appears to have proceeded further north
than York, or further west than Exeter. The ordinary day's journey of a
flying coach was about fifty miles in the summer; but in winter, when
the ways were bad and the nights long, little more than thirty. The
Chester coach, the York coach, and the Exeter coach generally reached
London in four days during the fine season, but at Christmas not till
the sixth day. The passengers, six in number, were all seated in the
carriage. For accidents were so frequent that it would have been most
perilous to mount the roof. The ordinary fare was about twopence
halfpenny a mile in summer, and somewhat more in winter.
This mode of travelling, which by Englishmen of the present day would
be regarded as insufferably slow, seemed to our ancestors wonderfully
and indeed alarmingly rapid- In a work published a few months before
— 225 -
tlie death of Charles the Second, the flying coaches are extolled as
far superior to any similar vehicles ever known in the world. Their ve-
locity is the subject of special conamendation, and is triumphantly con-
trasted with the sluggish pace of the continental posts. But with boasts
like these was mingled the sound of complaint and invective. The inter-
ests of large classes had been unfavourably affected by the establishment
of the new diligences; and, as usual, many persons were, from mere stu-
pidity and obstinacy, disposed to clamour against the innovation, simply
because it was an innovation. It was vehemently argued that this mode
of conveyance would be fatal to the breed of horses and to the noble art
of horsemanship; that the Thames, which had long been an important nur-
sery of seamen, would cease to be the chief thoroughfare from London up
to Windsor and down to Graveseud; that saddlers and spurriers would be
ruined hy hundreds; that numerous inns, at which mounted travellers had
been in the habit of stopping, would be deserted, and would no longer
pay any rent; that the new carriages were too cold in winter; that the
passengers were grievously annoyed by invalids and crying children;
that the coach sometimes reached the inn so late that it was impossible
to get supper, and sometimes started so early that it was impossible
to get breakfast. On these grounds it was gravely recommended that no
public carriage should be permitted to have more than four horses, to
start oftener than once a week, or to go more than thirty miles a day.
It was hoped that, if this regulation were adopted, all except the sick
and the lame would return to the old mode of travelling-. Petitions em-
bodying such opinions as these were presented to the King in council from
several companies of the City of London, from several provincial towns,
and from the justices of several counties. We smile at these things. It
is not impossible that our descendants, when they read the history of the
opposition offered by cupidity and prejudice to the improvements of the
nineteneth century, may smile in their turn.
In spite of the attractions of the flying coaches, it was still usual
for men who enjoyed health and vigour, and who were not encum-
bered by much baggage, to performing journeys on horseback. If the
traveller wished to move expeditiously he rode post. Fresh saddle horses
and guides were to be procured at convenient distances along all the
great lines of road. The charge was threepence a mile for each horse,
and fourpence a stage for the guide. In this manner, when the ways
29
=~ 226 —
were good, it was possible to travel, for a considerable time, as rapidly
as by any conveyance known in England, till vehicles were propelled
by steam. There were as yet no post chaises; nor' could those who
rode in their own coaches ordinarily procure a change of horses. The
King, however, and the great officers of state were able to command
relays. Thus Charles commonly went in one day from Whitehall to
Newmarket, a distance of about fifty- five miles through a level country;
and this was thought by his subjects a proof of great activity. Evelyn
performed the same journey in company with the Lord Treasurer Clifford.
The coach was drawn by six horses, which were changed at Bishop
Stortfurd and again at Chesterford. The travellers reached Newmarket at
night. Such a mode of conveyance seems to have been considered as
a rare luxury confined to princes and ministers.
Whatever might be the way in which a journey was performed, the
travellers, unless they were numerous and well armed, ran considerable
risk of being stopped and plundered. The mounted highwayman, a ma-
rauder known to our generation only from books, was to be found on
every main road. The waste tracts which lay on the great routes near
London were especially haunted by plunderers of this class. Hounslow
Heath, on the great Western Road, and Finchley Common, on the great
Northern Road, were perhaps the most celebrated of these spots. The
Cambridge scholars trembled when they approached Epping Forest, even
in broad daylight. Seamen who had just been paid off at Chatham were
often compelled to deliver their purses on Gadshill, celebrated near a
hundred year-s earlier by the greatest of poets as the scene of the depre-
dations of Poins and Falstaff. The public authorities seem to have been
often at a loss how to deal with the plunderers. At one time it was an-
nounced in the Gazette that several persons, who were strongly suspected
of being highv/aymcn, but against whom there was sufficient evidence,
would be paraded at Newgate in riding dresses: their horses would
also be shown; and all gentlemen who had been robbed were invited to
inspect this singular exhibition. On another occasion a pardon was
publicly offered to a robber, if he would give up some rough diamonds, of
immense value, which he had taken when he stopped the Harwich mail.
A short time after appeared another proclamation, warning the innkeepers
that the eye of the government was upon them. Their criminal connivance,
it was affirmed, enabled banditti to infest the roads with impunity. That
— 227 —
these suspicions were not without fundation, isproved by the dying speech-
es of some penitent robbers of that age, who appear to have received
from the innkeepers services much resembling those which Farquhar's
Boniface rendered to Gibbet.
It was necessary to the success and even to the safety of the high-
wayman that he should be a bold and skilful rider, and that his manners
and appearance should be such as suited the master of a fine horse. He
therefore held an aristocratical position in the community of thieves, ap-
peared at fashionable coffee-houses and gaming-houses, and betted with
men of quality on the race ground. Sometimes, indeed, he was a man
of good family and education. A romantic interest therefore attached, and
perhaps still attaches, to the names of freebooters of this class. The vul-
gar eagerly drank in tales of their ferocity and audacity, of their occa-
sional acts of generosity and good nature, of their, amours, of their mi-
raculous escapes, of their desperate struggles, and of their manly bear-
ing at the bar and in the cart. Thus it was related of William Nevison,
the great robber of Yorkshire, that he levied a quarterly tribute on all the
northern drovers, and, in return, not only spared them himself, but pro-
tected them against all other thieves ; that he demanded purses in the
most courteous manner ; that he gave largely to the poor what he had
taken from the rich; that his life was once spared by the royal clemency,
but that he again tempted his fate, and at length died, in 1685, on the
gallows of York. It was related how Claude Duval, the French page of
the Duke of Richmond, took to the road, became captain of a formidable
gang, and had the honour to be named first in a royal proclamation
against notorious offenders ; how at the head of his troop he stopped a
lady's coach, in which there was a booty of four hundred pounds; how
he took only one hundred, and suffered the fair owner to ransom the rest
by dancing a coranto with him on the heath; how his vivacious gallantry
stole away the hearts of all women ; how his dexterity at sword and
pistol made him a terror to all men; how, at length, in the year 1670,
he was seized when overcome by wine; how dames of high rank visited
him in prison, and with tears interceded for his life; how the King would
have granted a pardon, but for the interference of Judge Morton, the
terror of highwaymen, who threatened to resign his office unles the law
were carried into full effect; and how, after the execution, the corpse lay
in state with all the pomp of scutcheons, wax lights, black hangings,
— 228 —
and mutes, till the same cruel Judge, who had intercepted the mercy of
the crown, sent officers to disturb the obsequies. In these anecdotes there
is doubtless a large mixture of fable; but they are not on that account
unworthy of being recorded; for it is both an authentic and an important
fact that such tales, whether false or true, were heard by our ancestors
with eagerness and failh.
AH the various dangers by which the traveller was beset were greatly
increased by darkness. He was therefore commonly desirous of having
the shelter of a roof during the night; and such shelter it was not diffi-
cult to obtain. From a very early period the inns of England had been
renowned. Our first great poet had described the excellent accommodation
which they afforded to the pilgrims of the fourteenth century. Nine and
twenty persons, with their horses, fpund room in the wide chambers
and stables of the Tabard in Southwark, The food was of the best, and
the wines such as drew the company on to drink largely. Two hundred
years later, under the reign of Elizabeth, William Harrison gave a lively
description of the plenty and comfort of the great hostelries. The Conti-
nent of Europe, he said, could show nothing like them. There were some
in which two or three hundred people, with their horses, could without
difficulty be lodged and fed. The bidding, the tapestry, above all, the
abundance of clean and fine linen was matter of wonder. Valuable plate
was often set on the tables. Nay, there were signs which had cost thirty
or forty pounds. In the seventeenth century England abounded with ex-
cellent inns of every rank. The traveller sometimes, in a small village,
lighted on a public house such as Walton has described, where the brick
floor was swept clean, where the walls were stuck round with ballads,
where the sheets smelt of lavender, and where a blazing fire, a cup of
good ale, and a dish of trouts fresh from the neighbouring brook, were
to be procured at small charge. At the larger houses of entertainment
were to be found beds hung with silk, choice cookery, and claret equal
to the best which was drunk in London. The innkeepers too, it was said,
were not like other innkeepers. On the Continent the landlord was the
tyrant of those who crossed the threshold. In England he was a servant.
Never was an Englishman more at home than when he took his ease in
his inn. Even men of fortune, who might in their own mansions have
enjoyed every luxury, were often in the habit of passing their evenings
in the parlour of some neighbouring house of public entertainment. They
— 229 —
seem to have thought that comfort and freedom could in no other place
be enjoyed in equal perfection. This feeling continued during many gene-
rations to be a national peculiarity. The liberty and jollity of inns long
furnished matter to our novelists and dramatists. Johnson declared that a
tavern chair was the throne of human felicity; and Shenstone gently com-
plained that no private roof, however friendly, gave the wanderer so
warm a welcome as that which was to be found at an inn.
Many conveniences, which were unknown at Hampton Court and
Whitehall in the seventeenth century, are to be found in our modern ho-
tels. Yet on the whole it is certain that the improvement of our houses
of public entertainment has by no means kept pace with the improvement
of our roads and of our conveyances. Nor is this strange; for it is evi-
dent that, all other circumstances being supposed equal, the inns will be
best where the means of locomotion are worst. The quicker the rate of
travelling, the less important is it that there should be numerous agree-
able resting places for the traveller. A hundred and sixty years ago a
person who came up to the capital from a remote county generally re-
quired twelve or fifteen meals, and lodging for five or six nights by the
way. If he were a great man, he expected the meals and lodging to be
comfortable, and even luxurious. At present we fly from York or Exeter
to London by the light of a single winter's day. At present, therefore, a
traveller seldom interrupts his journey merely for the sake of rest and
refreshment. The consequence is that hundreds of excellent inns have
fallen into utter decay. In a short time no good houses of that description
will be found, except at places where strangers are likely to be detained
by business or pleasure.
The mode in which correspondence was carried on between distant
places may excite the scorn of the present generation ; yet it was such
as might have moved the admiration and envy of the polished nations of
antiquity, ,or of the comtemporaries of Raleigh and Cecil. A rude and
imperfect establishment of posts for the conveyance of letters had been
set up by Charles the First, and had been swept away by the civil war.
Under the Commonwealth the design was resumed. At the Restoration
the proceeds of the Post Office, after all expenses had been paid, were
settled on the Duke of York. On most lines of road the mails went out
and came in only on the alternate days. In Cornwall, in the fens of Lin-
colnshire, and among the hills and lakes of Cumberland, letters were
— 230 --
c
received only once a week. Daring a royal progress a daily post was de-
spatched from the capital to the place where the court sojourned. There
was also daily communication between London and the Downs ; and the
same privilege was sometimes extended to Tunbridge Wells and Bath at
the seasons when those places were crowded by the great. The bags were
carried on horseback day and night at the rate of about five miles an hour.
The revenue of this etablishment was not derived solely from the
charge for the transmission of letters. The Post office alone was entitled
to furnish post horses; and, from the care with which this monopoly was
guarded, we may infer that it was found profitable. If, indeed, a trav-
eller had waited half an hour without being supplied, he might hire a
horse wherever he could.
To facilitate correspondence between one part of London and another
was not originally one of the objects of the Post Office. But, in the reign
of Charles the Second, an enterprising citizen of London, William Dock-
wray, set up, at great expense, a penny post, which delivered letters
and parcels six or eight times a day in the busy and crowded streets
near the Exchange, and four times a day in the outskirts of the capital.
This improvement was, as usual, strenuously resisted. The porters com-
plained that their interests were attacked, and tore down the placards
in which the scheme Avas announced to the public. The excitement caused
by Godfrey's death, and by the discovery of Coleman's papers, was then
at the height. A cry was therefore raised that the penny post was a Popish
contrivance. The great Doctor Oates, it was affirmed, had hinted a su-
spicion that the Jesuits were at the bottom of the scheme, and that the
bags, if examined, would be found full of treason. The utility of the
enterprise was, however, so great and obvious that all opposition proved
fruitless. As soon as it became clear that the speculation would be lu-
crative, the Duke of York complained of it as infraction of his monopoly,
and the courts of law decided in his favour.
The revenue of the Post Office was from the first constantly increas-
ing. In the year of the Ptestoration a committee of the House of Com-
mons, after strict inquiry, had estimated the net receipt at about twenty
thousands pounds- At the close of the reign of Charles the Second,
the net receipt was little short of fifty thousand pounds; and this
was then thought a stupendous sum. The gross receipt was about seventy
thousand pounds. The charge for conveying a single letter was twopence
— 23i —
for eighty miles, and threepence for a longer distance. The postage in-
creased in proportion to the weight of the packet. At present a single
letter is carried to the extremity of Scotland or of Ireland for a penny;
and the monopoly of post horses has long ceased to exist. Yet the gross
annual receipts of the department amount to more than eighteen hundred
thousands pounds, and the net receipts to more than seven hundred thou-
sand pounds. It is, therefore, scarcely possible to doubt that the number
of letters now conveyed by mail is seventy times the number which was
so conveyed at the time of the accession of James the Second.
No part of the load which the old mails carried out was more import-
ant than the newsletters. In 1685 nothing like the London daily paper
of our time existed, or could exist. Neither the necessary capital
nor the necessary skill was to be found. Freedom too was wanting, a
want as fatal of either capital or skill. The press was not indeed at that
moment under a general censorship. The licensing act, which had
been passed soon after the Restoration, had expired in 1679. Any per-
son might therefore print, at his own risk, a history, a sermon, or a
poem, without the previous approbation of any public officer; but the
Judges were unanimously of opinion that this liberty did not extend to
Gazettes, and that, by the common law of England, no man, not author-
ised by the crown, had a right to publish political news. While the
Whig party was still formidable, the government thought it expedient
occasionally to connive at the violation of this rule. During the great
battle of the Exclusion Bill, many newspapers were suffered to appear,
the Protestant Intelligence, the Current Intelligence, the Domestic Intel-
ligence, the True News, the London Mercury. None of these was publish-
ed oftener than twice a week. None exceeded in size a single small leaf.
The quantity of matter, which one of them contained in a year, was not
more than is often found in two numbers of the Times. After the defeat
of the Whigs it was no longer necessary for the King to be sparing in
the use of that which all his Judges had pronounced to be his undoubted
prerogative. At the close of his reign no newspaper was suffered to ap-
pear without his allowance: and his allowance was given exclusively to the
London Gazette. The London Gazette came out only on Mondays and Thurs-
days. The contents generally were a royal proclamation, two or three Tory
addresses, notices of two or three promotions, an account of a skirmish be-
tween the imperial troops and the Janissaries on the Danube, a description of
— 232 —
a highwayman, an announcement of a grand cockfight between two persons
of honour, and an advertisement offering a reward for a strayed dog.
The whole made up two pages of moderate size. Whatever was commu-
nicated respecting matters of the highest moment was communicated in
the most meagre and formal style. Sometimes, indeed, when the go-
vernment was disposed to gratify the public curiosity respecting an im-
portant transaction, a broadside was put forth giving fuller details than
could be found in the Gazette: but neither the Gazette nor any supple-
mentary broadside printed by authority ever contained any intelligence
which it did not suit the purposes of the court to publish. The most im-
portant parliamentary debates, the most important state trials, recorded
in our history, were passed over in profound silence. In the capital the
coffee-houses supplied in some measure the place of a journal. Thither the
Londoners flocked, as the Athenians of old flocked to the market place,
to hear whether there was any news. There men might learn how bru-
tally a Whig had been treated the day before in Westminster Hall, what
horrible accounts the letters from Edinburgh gave of the torturing of
Covenanters, how grossly the Navy Board had cheated the crown in the
victualling of the fleet, and what grave charges the Lord Privy Seal had
brought against the Treasury in the matter of the hearth money. But
people who lived at a distance from the great theatre of political con-
tention could be kept regularly informed of what was passing there only
by means of newsletters. To prepare such letters became a calling in
London, as it now is among the natives of India. The neAVSwriter rambled
from coffee-room to coffee-room, collecting reports, squeezed himself
into the Sessions House at the Old Bailey if there was an interesting
trial, nay, perhaps obtained admission to the gallery of Whitehall, and
noticed how the King and Duke looked. In this way he gathered materials
for weekly epistles destined to enlighten some county town or some
bench of rustic magistrates. Such were the sources from which the inha-
bitants of the largest provincial cities, and the great body of the gentry
and clergy, learned almost all that they knew of the history of their own
time. We must suppose that at Cambridge there were as many persons
curious to know what was passing in the world as at almost any place in
the kingdom, out of London. Yet at Cambridge, during a great part of
the reign of Charles the Second, the Doctors of Laws and the Masters of
Arts had no regular supply of news except through the London Gazette.
— 233 —
At length the services of one of the collectors of intelligence in the capital
were employed. That was a memorable day on which the newsletter
from London was laid on the table of the only coffee-room in Cambridge.
At the seat of a man of fortune in the country the newsletter was im-
patiently expected. Within a week after it had arrived it had been thumb-
ed by twenty families. It furnished the neighbouring squires with matter
for talk over their October, and the neighbouring rectors with topics for
sharp sermons against Whiggery or Popery. (Macaulay).
2S. England in 1685, and England in 1857.
It is time that the description of the higher classes of the English
whom Charles the Second governed should draw to a close*). Yet one
subject of the greatest moment still remains untouched. Nothing has as
yet been said of the great body of the people, of those who held the
ploughs, who tended the oxen, who toiled at the looms of Norwich, and
squared the Portland stone for Saint Paul's. Nor can very much be said.
The most numerous class is precisely the class respecting which we have
the most meagre information. In those times philanthropists did not yet
regard it as a sacred duty, nor had demagogues yet found it a lucrative
trade, to expatiate on the distress of the labourer. History was too much
occupied with courts and camps to spare a line for the hut of the peasant
or for the garret of the mechanic. The press now often sends forth in a
day a greater quantity of discussion and declamation about the condition
of the working man than was published during the twenty-eight years
which elapsed between the Restoration and the Revolution. But it would
be a great error to infer from the increase of complaint that there has
been any increase of misery.
The great criterion of the state of the common people is the amount
of their wages; and, as four fifths of the common people were, in the se-
venteenth century, employed in agriculture, it is especially important to
ascertain what were the wages of agricultural industry. On this subject
*) In the preceding part of his History of England, Macaulay proves beyond
doubt, that the higher classes, of the present dayjare in every respect much more
moral, much more humane, much more intellectual and honourable than they ever
were in former times.
30
— 234 -^
we have the means of arriving at conclusions sufficiently exact for our
purpose.
It is evident that, in a country where no man can be compelled to
become a soldier, the ranks of an array cannot be filled, if the government
offers much less than the wages of common rustic labour. At present the
pay and beer money of a private in a regiment of the line amount to seven
shillings and seven pence a week. This stipend, coupled with the hope of a
pension, does not attract the English youth in sufficient numbers; and it
is found necessary to supply the deficiency by enlisling largely from
among the poorer population of Munster and Connaught. The pay of the
private foot soldier in 1685 was only four shillings and eightpence a
week, yet it is certain that the government in that year found no diffi-
culty in obtaining many thousands of English recruits at very short notice.
On the whole, therefore, it seems reasonable to conclude that, in the reign
of Charles the Second, the ordinary wages of the peasant did not exceed
four shillings a week; but that, in some parts of the kingdom, five shil-
lings, six shillings, and during the summer months, even seven shillings
were paid. At present a district where a labouring man earns only seven
shillings a week is thought to be in a state shocking to humanity. The
average is very much higher; and, in prosperous counties , the weekly
wages of husbandmen amount to twelve, fourteen , and even sixteen shillings.
The remuneration of workmen employed in manufactures has always
been higher than that of the tillers of the soil. In the year 1680, a
member of the House of Commons remarked that the high wages paid in
this country made it impossible to maintain a competition with the pro-
duce of the Indian looms. An English mechanic, he said, instead of slaving
like a native of Bengal for a piece of copper, exacted a shilling a day.
Olher evidence is extant, which proves that a shilling a day was the pay
to which the English manufacturer then thought himself entitled, but that
he was often forced to work for less. A ballad of that epoch describes
the good old times when every artisan employed in the woolen manufac-
ture lived as well as a farmer. But those times were past. Sixpence a
day was now all that could be earned by hard labour at the loom. If the
poor complained that they could not live. on such a pittance, they were
told that they were free to take it or leave it. Whereas in our days the
average rate of wages for weavers is from two shillings and sixpence to
three shillings a day.
— 235 —
It may here be noticed that tlie practice of setting children premature-
ly to work, a practice which the state, the legitimate protector of those
who cannot protect themselves, has, in our time, wisely and humanely
interdicted, prevailed in the seventeenth century to an extent Avhich,
when compared with the manufacturing system, seems almost incredible."
At Norwich, the chief seat of the clothing trade, a little creature of six
years old was thought fit for labour. Several writers of that time, and
among them some who were considered as eminently benevolent, mention,
with exultation, the fact that in that single city boys and girls of very
tender age created wealth exceeding what was necessary for their own
subsistence by twelve thousand pounds a year. The more carefully we
examine the history of the past, the more reason shall we find to dissent
from those who imagine that our age has been fruitful of new social
evils. The truth is that the evils are, with scarcely an exception, old.
That which is new is the intelligence which discerns and the humanity
which remedies them.
When we pass from the weavers of cloth to a different class of arti-
sans, our inquiries will still lead us to nearly the same conclusions. During
several generations, the Commissioners of Greenwich Hospital have kept a
register of the wages paid to different classes of workmen who have been
employfed in the repairs of the building. From this valuable record it ap-
pears that, in the course of a hundred and twenty years, the daily earnings
of the bricklayer have risen from half a crown to four and tenpence, those
of the mason from half a crown to five and three pence , those of the
carpenter from half a crown to five and fivepence and those of the
plumber from three shillings to five and tenpence.
It seems clear, therefore, that the wages of labour, estimated in
money, were, in 1685, not more than half of what they now are ; and
there were few articles important to the working man of which the price
was not, in 1685, more than half of what it is now. Beer was undoubt-
edly much cheaper in that age than at present. Meat was also cheaper,
but was still so dear that hundreds of thousands of families scarcely
knew the taste of it. In the cost of wheat there has been very little
change. The average price of the quarter, during the last twelve years
of Charles the second, was fifty shillings. Bread, therefore, such as is
now given to the inmates of a workhouse, was then seldom seen, even
on the trencher of a yeoman or of a shopkeeper. The great majority of
— 236 —
the natioD lived almost entirely on rye, barley, and oats. All other com-
modities were positively dearer than at present.
Of the blessings which civilization and philosophy bring with them a
large proportion is common to all ranks, and would, if withdrawn, be
missed as painfully by the labourer as by the peer. The market place
which the rustic can now reach with his cart in an hour was, a hundred
and sixty years ago, a day's journey from him. The streets which now
afford to the artisan, during the whole night, a secure, a convenient, and
a brilliantly lighted walk was, a hundred and sixty years ago, so dark after
sunset that he would not have been able to see his hand, so ill paved
that he would have run constant risk of breaking his neck, and so ill
watched that he would have been in imminent danger of being knocked
down and plundered of his small earnings. Every bricklayer who falls
from a scaffold, every sweeper of a crossing who is run over by a car-
riage, may now have- his wounds dressed and his limbs set with a skill
such as, a hundred-and sixty years ago, all the wealth of a great lord
like Ormond, or of a merchant prince like Clayton could not have pur-
chased. Some frightful disceases have been extirpated by science; and
some have been banished by the police. The term of life has been length-
ened over the whole kingdom, and- especially in the towns. The year
1685 was not accounted sickly; yet in the year 1685 more than one in
twenty-three of the inhabitants of the capital died. At present only one
inhabitant of the capital in forty-two dies annually. The difference in
salubrity between London of the nineteenth century and the London of
the seventeenth century is very far greater than the difference between
London in an ordinary season and London in the cholera.
The prisons in those times were hells on earth, seminaries of every
crime and of every disease. At the assizes the lean aud yellow culprits
brought with them from their cells to the dock an atmosphere of pesti-
lence, which sometimes avenged them signally on bench, bar, and jury.
But on all this misery society looked with profound indifference. Nowhere
could be found that sensitive and restless compassion which has, in our
time, extended a powerful protection to the factory child, to the Hindoo
widow, to the Negro slave, which pries into the stores and water-casks
of every emigrant ship, which winces at every lash laid on the back of
the drunken soldier, which will not suffer the thief in the hulks to be
ill fed or overworked, and which has repeatedly endeavoured to save the
_ 237 -
life of the murderer. It is (rue that compassion ougiit, like every other
feeling, to be under the government of reason, and has, for vi^ant of such
government, produced some ridiculous and some deplorable effects. But
the more we study the annals of the past, the more shall we rejoice that
we live in a merciful age, in an age in which cruelty is abhorred, and
in which pain, even when deserved, is. inflicted reluctantly and from a
sense of duty. Every class doubtless has gained largely by this great
moral change: but the class which has gained most is the poorest, the
most dependent, and the most defenceless.
It is pleasing to reflect that the public mind of England has softened
while it has ripened, and that we have, in the course of ages, become
not only a wiser, but also a kinder people. There is scarcely a page of
the history or lighter literature of the seventeenth century which does not
contain some proof that our ancestors were less humane than their post
erity. The discipline of workshops, of schools, of private families,
though not more efficient than at present, was infinitely harsher. Mas-
ters, well born and bred, were in the habit of beating their servants.
Pedagogues knew no way of imparting knowledge but by beating their
pupils. Husbands, of decent station, were not ashamed to beat their wives.
The general effect of the evidence which has been submitted to the
reader seems hardly to admit of doubt. Yet, in spite of evidence, many
will still imagine to themselves the England of the Stuarts as a more
pleasant country than the England in which we live. It may at first seem
strange that society, while constantly moving forward with eager speed,
should be constantly looking backward with tender regret. But these two
propensities, inconsistent as they may appear, can easily be resolved
into the same principle. That impatience.^ while it stimulates us to sur-
pass preceding generations, disposes us to overrate their happiness. It
is, in some sense unreasonable and ungrateful in us to be constantly dis-
contented with a condition which is constantly improving. But, in truth,
there is constant improvement, because there is constant discontent. If
we were perfectly satisfied with the present, we should cease to contrive,
to labour, and to save for the future. And it is natural that, being dis-
satisfied with the present, we should form a too favourable estimate of
the past.
In truth we are under a deception similar to that which misleads
the traveller in the Arabian desert. Beneath the caravan all is dry and
— 238 —
bare: but far in advance, and far in the rear, is the semblance of refresh-
ing waters. The Pilgrims hasten forward and find nothing but sand
where, an hour before, they had seen a lake. They turn their eyes and
see a lake where, an hour before, they were toiling through sand. A sim-
ilar illusion seems to haunt nations through every stage of the long pro-
gress from poverty and barbarism to the highest degrees of opulence and
civilization. But, if we resolutely chase the mirage backward, we shall
find it recede before us into the regions of fabulous antiquity. It is now
the fashion to place the golden age of England in times when noblemen
were destitute of comforts the want of which would be intolerable to a
modern footman, when farmers and shopkeepers breakfasted on loaves,
the very sight of which would raise a riot in a modern workhouse, when
men died faster in the purest country air than they now die in the most
pestilential lanes of our large towns, and when men died faster in the
lanes of our towns than they now die on the coast of Guinea We too
shall, in our turn, be outstripped, and in our turn be envied. It may well
be, in the twentieth century, that the peasant of Dorsetshire may think
himself miserably paid with fifteen shillings a week ; that the carpenter
at Greenwich may receive ten shillings a day; that labouring men may
be as little used to dine without meat as they are now to eat rye bread;
that sanitary police and medical discoveries may have added several more
years to the average length of hum^n life; that numerous comforts and
luxuries which are now unknown, or confined to a few, may be within
the reach of every diligent and thrifty working man. And yet it may
then be the mode to assert that the increase of wealth and the progress
of science have benefitted the few at the expense of the many, and to
talk of the reign of Queen Victoria as the time when Englan-d was truly
merry England, when all classes were bound together by brotherly sym-
pathy, when the rich did not grind the faces of the poor, and when the
poor did not envy the splendour of the rich.
Macaulay. Hist, of England.
239
Sketches from the British Empire.
I. General Physical Features of Eugland,
The British Empire is one of the most important, powerful, and the
largest empires of the globe. It includes a larger population than any
other empire, except that of China. Among the countries subject to Brit-
ish rule are territories situated in every quarter of the globe; some of
them in either division of the old world, others within the limits of the
western hemisphere. While some of them, again, border upon the north
polar circle, and touch the shores of the Frozen Ocean; others lie within
the warm belt of the torrid zone, and display the brilliant vegetation of
the tropics. The centre of the British empire is the United Kingdom of
Great Britain and Ireland. Of the principal island (Great Britain),
England is the southern and larger portion, the remaining or nothern
part being Scotland.
Eipgland is bounded on the east by the German Ocean; on the south,
by the English Channel, separating it from France; and on the west, by
St. George's Channel and the Irish Sea, separating it from Ireland.
Scotland adjoins it on the north. The shape of England and Wales bears
some resemblance to that of a triangle, of which the longest side is to
the westward.
At the straits of Dover the breadth of the English Channel is little
more than twenty miles. In clear weather the opposite shores are dis-
tinctly visible. It has been supposed that this narrow passage was once
closed by an isthmus. The correspondence between the rocks, with the
fact of the same noxious animals, the bear and the wolf, having existed
on both sides of the straits, are the chief reasons, assigned for the sup-
position.
The general aspect of England is varied and delightful. In some
parts verdant plains extend as far as the eye can reach, watered by co-
pious streams, and covered by innumerable castles. In others, the pleas-
ing vicissitudes of gently rising hills and bending vales, fertile in corn,
— 240 —
waving with wood, and interspersed with meadows, offer delightful
landscapes of opulence and beauty. Some tracts abound with prospects
of the more romantic kind, — lofty mountains, craggy rocks, deep
narrow dells, and tumbling torrents; nor are there wanting, as a con-
trast, the gloomy features of black moors, and wide uncultivated heaths. —
The general aspect of Wales, as distinguished from England, is bold,
romantic, and mountainous. It consists of continued ranges of lofty
mountains, and impending crags, intersected by numerous and deep
ravines and extensive valleys.
The eastern, central, and southern parts of England are generally
level, presenting only a few chalk ranges and picturesque eminences,
which do not reach any considerable elevation, but serve to diversify
agreeably the surface of the country. But around the estuary of the
Wash, there is an extensive tract of low, flat land, extremely monoto-
nous, owing to the large amount of water brought down by the rivers,
their very slight fall, and the lowness of the district, it is naturally ex-
posed to floods from heavy rains, and to inundations of the sea, requi-
ring a net- work of artificial channels, with hydraulic machinery,, to pro-
mote drainage, and embankments, in order to keep the waters in check.
By works of this kind, constructed at an immense expense, a region
once nearly useless toman, consisting of stagnant pools and spongy earth,
has been converted into rich meadows and corn -bearing lauds.
From the Scottish border, a range of mountains, the Cheviot hills,
extends southward. The loftiest point is Cross Fell, 2901 feet above
the sea. Grander highlands are clustered on the west of this range, con-
nected with it. The most prominent elevation is the Sea Fell, 3166
feet, the highest point of England.
The Snowdon «the snow-clad hil» in Wales, forty miles in circuit,
attains the height of 3571 feet, and is the most elevated point of
Wales.
Owing to the westerly position of the higher elevations, the ge-
neral slope of the entire country is towards the east; and hence most
of the important Rivers are formed in that direction, flowing to the
North Sea. These, proceeding from north to south, are the Tyne, Wear,
Tees, Humber, including Trent and Ouse, Yare, Orwell, and Thames,
with Medway. On the western side of the kingdom, proceeding from
south to north , there are the Parret , Severn and Wye , entering the
— 241 —
Bristol Channel; the Dee, Mersey, Ribble, Lune, and Eden, discharging
into the Irish sea. On the south, and connected with the English Channel,
passing from west to east, there are the Tamar, the Exe, and Salisbury
Avon, with several of minor note. The three largest examples of the
whole, are the Iluraber, Severn and Thames.
The Humber is the name of an estuary, formed by the junction of
the Trent and Ouse. They geographically constitute a single river system,
the most important in the British Isles as to the magnitude of its basin,
which is very nearly equal to one-sixth of the total area of England and
Wales. The Trent is the longest and largest tributary. Its name is said
to be derived from its containing thirty varieties of fish. Where it is
joined by the Ousc, the estuary of the Humber commences, varying in
breadth from two to four miles. Though much encumbered with shoals,
there is a main channel available for ships of the largest size up to Hull,
on the north bank.
The Severn w^ith the tributary of the Bristol Avon is the longest
river, owing to its circuitous route, for its actual length of 240 miles,
is twice the distance from source to mouth. Few of the English rivers
are charged with such an amount of sediment, owing to its own course,
and that of its tributaries, being for considerable distance through tracts
of marl and soft sandstone.
The Thames^ though only the third in point of magnitude, ranks
the first as a tidal river, and is commercially the most important stream
on the face of the globe.
Many of the second class rivers are of the highest commercial value,
as the Tyne, Wear, and Tees, for the shipment of coal; and the Mersey
for its noble expansion, before reaching the sea, facilitating the foreign
trade of Liverpool. It flows through the cotton manufacturing district;
and one of its affluents, the Irwell, on which Manchester stands, has
been aptly styled, « the hardest- worked river in the world», from the
number of mills and factories on its banks.
The upper courses of most of the northern streams, the banks of
the Dove and Derwent, in Derbyshire, those of the Dee, Wye and Towy,
in Wales, and of the Tamar, in Cornwall, are renowned for their fine
scenery.
The Thames, the Mersey, the Severn, and the Humber are connected
by Canals and thus a water communication is maintained between Lon-
31
— 242 —
don, Liverpool, Bristol and Hull, the four great commercial ports of
Great Britain.
The subordinate isles of any important extent are western and south-
ern. They consist of the Isle of Man in the Irish sea, nearly midway
between England and Ireland, with judicial institutions and revenue laws
peculiar to itself; Anglesea, on the north-west coast of Wales, and one
of its counties, separated from the mainland by the Menai Straits, but
now connected with it by a suspension, and a tubular bridge; the Scilly
Isles, to the west of the Land's End, a compact group of from one to
two hundred granitic masses, only forty of which have herbage, and six
are inhabited ; and the beautiful Isle of Wight, divided from the main-
land of Hampshire by the Channel of the Solent, and the great naval
road-stead of Spithead. Besides these, there are the Channel Islands,
consisting of Jersey, Guernsey, Alderney and others, geographically
belonging to France, but subject to the English crown since the eleventh
century; and the Isle of Thauet, off the. coast of Kent.
The Lakes are few, and of unimportant size, chiefly confined to the
Cumbrian mountains, where they occupy deep hollows and glens between
them. But they are very celebrated for natural beauty, heightened by
cultivation and charming residences on the banks. Windermere, the
largest, is ten miles long, by from one to two broad.
The climate of the kingdom is remarkable for its dense fogs, fre-
quent rains and perpetual change ; but it is also noted for its mildness,
compared with that of continental districts. Not only is the mean annual
temperature higher from ten to twenty degrees (Fahrenheit), and even
more in some instances, but the seasons are never iu such violent con-
trast. This arises from the vast surrounding expanse of ocean, for water
every where preserves a more uniform temperatare than land, from the
warm current of the Gulf Stream; and the prevailing south west winds
which blow up from the direction of the tropics. The western sides, both
of Great Britain and Ireland, are warmer than the eastern, being more
exposed to the influences which contribute to raise the temperatare. On
the south coast, the climate is remarkably genial, and the rich, lasting
verdure there, vies with that of any other country in Europe.
The snow rarely lies upon the ground more than two or three days,
the sea-ports of England are never known to suffer the inconvenience of
being blocked up Avith ice during winter time.
— 243 —
The soil is either naturally good, or, being rendered so by culture,
is capable of producing all the valuable kinds of grain, in abundance, and
of excellent quality. Owing to the nature of the climate, the western
districts are better adapted to pasturage, and the eastern to tillage. In
the north, there are still extensive moors, which have hitherto resisted
all the improvements of agriculture. Particular attention has been paid in
England to the improving of the breed of horses, oxen, and sheep, which
are perhaps not to besurpassedby those of any other country. In strength,
spirit,, swiftness, docility, and beauty, the English horses' yield to none
in the world; possessing, as they do, all the qualities of the best foreign
breeds. Race horses have been brought to the highest perfection.
England is remarkably rich in its mineral productions, and to this it
is indebted in a great measure for its unparalleled and growing prosperity.
The most important are coal, iron, tin, copper, lead, salt, zinc, slate,
lime and clay.
The principal coal district of England is in the North; another stretch-
ing for about a hundred miles along the Bristol Channel,
The south coast, including that of the Isle of Wight, generally con-
sists of chalky cliffs, constantly mouldering away from the action of
the sea.
On account of the general deficiency of hard stone near the surface,
the houses throughout the greater part of England are built of brick.
II. Civil and Ecclesiastical State,
The government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland
is constitutional, or possesses a regular form, in which the civil rights
of all classes are acknowledged and guaranteed.lt is a limited monarchy,
consisting of King or Queen, Lords, and Commons.
In early times, the king possessed the chief influence, while the
Parliament, in general, was rather an obsequious council of the sovereign
than an independent body. At the Revolution of 1688, the strength of
the monarchy was diminished by a breach of the hereditary line, and
the Parliament became the predominant power. As the nobility and su-
perior gentry had then the chief influence in both Houses of Parliament,
— 244 —
it might be said that the aristocratic principle had become ascendant. It
continued to be so till the passing of the Reform Bill in 1832, when the
power of electing the majority of the House of Commons being extended
to the middle-classes of the people, the democratic principle was, for the
first time, brought into any considerable degree offeree.
The sovereign has power to make war or peace; to assemble or dis-
solve parliament, and to ratify all its acts by his assent. He appoints all
civil and military authorities, as well as dignitaries of the Church, and
can increase the number of peers at pleasure by creating new ones. He
is held to be incapable of doing wrong; and if an unlawful act be done,
the minister instrumental in that act is alone liable to punishment. The
succession to the throne is hereditary; but, by the coronation oath, the
sovereign is bound to govern according to the laws of the realm, and to
maintain inviolate the Protestant religion, with all the rights and privi-
leges of the Church.
The House of Lords is composed of the lords spiritual and tempo-
ral; the former of whom are the archbishops and bishops; the latter, the
dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts, and barons of the United Kingdom.
Peers cannot be arrested except for treason and some other high offences,
and they must be tried by a jury of themselves, who give their verdict
merely upon tbeir honour. The peers may vote by proxy.
The Hou.te of Commons is composed of knights, citizens, and bur-
gesses, respectively chosen by counties, cities, and boroughs. Its mem-
bers cannot be arrested in civil causes during their attendance on parlia-
ment, nor can they be called to account out of the House for anything
said within it. Tiiey posses the sole right of regulating the collection
and distribution of the public money— it being recognised as a principle,
that the people shall not be taxed but by their own consent through their
representatives. The Commons cannot vote by proxy.
A bill — that is, any proposed measure — before it can become
the law of the land, must be first read three times in the House of Com-
mons, and then thrice in the House of Lords, obtaining a majority of
votes on each reading; and, finally, it must receive the royal assent. A
rejected bill cannot be introduced again during the same session.
The peculiar boast of the criminal law of the British empire is Trial
by Jury. In England and Ireland, where the principle of the criminal law
requires the injured party or his representative to prosecute, he can only
— 245 -
do so by permission of a jury of accusation, called the Grand Jury; an-
other jury sits for the purpose of deciding whether the evidence against
the accused has established the guilt. These juries consist in England of
twelve men whose verdict must be unanimous. In Scotland, there is no
grand jury, and there the jury upon the charge consists of fifteen men,
who decide by a majority of votes. The jury is an institution justly con-
sidered as a most officient protection of the subject from the vindictive-
ness of power- Civil cases, turning upon matters of fact, are also decided
by juries in ail parts of the United Kingdom.
The established religion in England and Wales is the Protestant, and
the English Church is under the government of two archbishops and
twenty six bishops, the sovereign being its supreme head.
In Scotland, the established form of worship is that called Presbyte-
rian; the ministers of the Scotch church are under the government of a
body called the General Assembly. There is likewise in Scotland a branch
of theEnglish Episcopal Church, which is presided over by seven bishops.
In Ireland, the Established Church is a branch of the English (form-
ing, with it, the United Church of England and Ireland), and is governed
by two archbishops and ten bishops. But the majority of the people of
Ireland are members of the Roman Catholic religion.
There are numerous dissenters from the established form of worship
in all parts of the United Kingdom, and full toleration is allowed to all
persuasions.
Branches of the English Church exist in all the colonies of the em-
pire, and are under the government of bishops of the Colonial Church,
all the principal settlements abroad having been arranged into dioceses
for the purpose.
Ill, National Character — Language, Literature, Arts,
and Sciences.
The predominant feature in the Character of the English is an
ardent love of liberty, which renders them extremely tenacious of their
civil rights, stern advocates of justice, and patriotic in the highe:^t de-
gree. In their manners^ they are grave rather than gay, blunt rather than
— 246 —
ceremonioos; in their habits, they are enterprising, industrious, and pro-
vident; in their feelings, humane; in mercantile transactions generally
the greatest integrity exists, and promises are faithfully performed; in.
the middle and upper classes, the highest civilisation prevails, and all
the social virtues and comforts of domestic life are sedulously cultivated.
There are some fovourite field-sports and boisterous amusements; but
the enjoyments of the English are chiefly within doors in their own well-
regulated homes. A love of home is a marked peculiarity in the affections
of the English.
The Welsh^ the descendants of the ancient Britons, are said to be
choleric, but brave, kind-hearted, and hospitable. Their minds are also
said to be tinged with superstitious notions, supposed to be in some
measure owing to the wild mountain scenery of their country.
The English language is, radically, of a twofold origin, being derived
from the Teutonic through the Anglo-Saxons and the Danes, and from
the Latin through the Norman-French. But although principally based
upon the Anglo-Saxon, it may be said in its present state to be com-
pounded, more or less, of many European tongues- Its construction is
simple, but its pronanciation, on account of the variety of sounds to the
same letters, is perhaps the most difficult, especially to foreigners, of all
modern languages.
The language spoken by the original inhabitants of Britain was nearly
related to that now spoken by the Welsh.
England has long borne a distinguished part in the literary and
scientific world. In the various departments of philosophy, poetry, and
history, it can number many illustrious authors; some of matchless ex-
cellence. A similar distinction marks the cultivation of those arts and
sciences which refine and embellish the social state, as well as add to
its comforts and conveniences. Institutions for the encouragement of
every description of knowledge, are established throughout the country
on the most liberal principles. Literature flourishes in England not only
from the intelligence of the people, but because the press is free.
The dawn of English literature may be dated about the middle
of the fourteenth century; in the reign of Elizabeth it was in a flourish-
ing state; and from that period a numerous train of literary and scientific
men swell the page of biography.
— 247 —
The chief institutions for education in England are — the ancient
national universities of Oxford and Cambridge ; the more recent colleges
of London, Durham, and Lampeter in Wales; the classical schools of
Eton, Westminster, Winchester, Harrow, Charterhouse, and Rugby ; the
military college of Sandhurst; the colleges of various dissenting denomi-
nations; and the elementary schools of the National and British and For-
eign Societies. There are numerous schools for elementary instruction,
which, are conducted by private exertion, and supported by fees, along
with, in some instances, aid from the state. After all that is done, how-
ever, there is still a great and lamentable deficiency in educational esta-
blishments.
IV. The City of London.
London, the capital of the British empire, and the most important
commercial city on the globe, is situated on both sides of the river
Thames, in the counties of Middlesex and Surrey. It extends nearly ten
miles in length, from east to west, and covers more than sixty square
miles of country. The number of inhabitants amounts to more than
3 millions. Its general form is oval. There are from twelve thousand
to thirteen thousand squares, streets, lanes, and courts, and about a
quarter of a million of houses. The river Thames is crossed by several
handsome bridges. These are seven in number, connecting the Middlesex
portion of the metropolis with that on the Surrey side; Of these, three
are toll free, and four are subject to a small impost. The free bridges
are Southwark, Waterloo, and Westminster; the others are Southwark,
Waterloo, Hungerford, and Vauxhall.
London still retains the character, not of one compact city, but of
a conglomeration of different towns, connected by long streets. It has
in various parts of it all the features of a large town. Thus, in one dis-
trict of it one finds a busy, bustling street, every house of which has its
lower floor opened as a shop. Behind this street one finds handsome
streets and squares, where there are few or no shops, the houses being
occupied by persons of property. At a little distance one finds narrow
streets, with mean houses occupied by the poor. One passes away to
another district, several miles off, and one finds the sam« features of a
m- — 2 AS —
large town repeated, the great shop streets, the streets and squares for
the aristocracy, and the narrow streets and lanes for the poor. One
moves oif several miles in other directions, and the same features are
repeated again and again.
The streets are crowded, not only with people, but with carriages,
omnibuses, and vehicles of every description; and one would at first
imagine that some great occasion had drawn everybody out of their houses;
but day after day one would observe the same busy multitude passing
and repassing like so many bees.
It is also greatly diversified in the occupations and manners of the
inhabitants. To the east upon the river, is a great seaport, with all the
sounds, sights, and smells connected with the arriving, sailing, loading,
and unloading of vessels. Another quarter of it is a manufacturing town,
the streets generally silent, the people being in their houses at work,
with the sound of the shuttle heard from house to house, and the master
manufacturers residing in well built handsome streets and squares in the
vicinity. Another district is manisfestly the seat of the Court, everything
wearing the air of splendour and fashion, the manners of the shopkeepers
as difierent from those of their brethren in other quarters as if they were
not natives of the same country.
In ancient times, London was not nearly so large as it now is. The
houses were, in general, badly built, and constructed of wood and plaster;
and the streets were mean and narrow. There were not wanting, however,
several very handsome buildings, both public and private; among the
former, the old cathedral of St. Paul held Ihe preeminence; its steeple
is said to have been five hundred and twenty feet high. But in the reign
of Charles II., a dreadful plague, which swept away one hundred thou-
sand persons, was followed by a fire which destroyed almost all the city,
consuming four hundred streets, thirteen thousand houses, eighty-nine
churches, including St. Paul's Cathedral, the Guildhall, the Royal Ex-
change, and many other buildings. In rebuilding, the city was much im-
proved; the streets were widened, and the houses constructed with brick
instead of wood and plaster.
London has many fine buildings, but most of them are unfavourably
situated for being seen to advantage. The general character of London is
not splendour, but comfort, cleanliness, and convenience. A person arriv-
ing there will soon see that its inhabitants are not bent on show or
— 2/l9 —
pleasure, but on business, and every facility is provided for aiding them.
The abundance of water conveyed into every house, the thorough and
perfect illumination with gas, the excellent repair in which the streets
and roads are kept, the facility with which persons of all ranks can be
conveyed from one part of the town to another, or to any part of the
world, form the most remarkable features of this extraordinary city.
One of the finest buildings is St. Paul's Cathedral, which was rebuilt
by Sir Christopher Wren after the great lire; the first stone was laid on
the 21st of June, 1575, by the architect himself, who lived to see it
completed, although it took thirty-five years in building; the top stone
being laid by the architect's son, in 1710. It is a magnificent structure,
and, with the exception of St. Peter's at Rome, the grandest cathedral
in the world. Within it, are several fine statues in commemoration of
generals, statesmen, and other celebrated persons who are buried there.
Inside the dome is a curious gallery, called the whispering gallery. If a
person at one end of this gallery puts his mouth against the wall and
whispers ever so faintly, any one at the other end will hear him di-
stinctly. The highest part of the building is about three hundred and
seventy feet from the ground; and a fine view of London may be obtained
from it; but the people, houses, carriages, and other objects, being seen
from such a height, look exceedingly small, and have a curious effect.
Another building is Westminster Abbey,- a very ancient building.
On its side originally stood a Christian church, built by Sebert, king of
Essex, in 610, A. D., but afterwards destroyed by the Danes.' The Ab-
bey, as' such, was founded by Edward the Confessor, who, in 1041,
restored the Saxon line of the kings of England ; it was afterwards re-
built by Henry III. and enlarged by his successors. It was also repaired,
and two of its towers were built by Sir Christopher Wren. One part of
the abbey is called the Poets' Corner; and there are buried some of the
most celebrated poets that England has reproduced. There one may find
the names of Chaucer, Spenser, Shakspeare, Milton, and many others;
and there are many beautiful monuments in marble erected to their
memory.
The chief curiosities of Westminster Abbey are the chapels at the
eastern end of the church, with their tombs. One of these, which stands
behind the altar, is dedicated to Edward the Confessor. Here is to be
seen his tomb, which was built by Henry III., and which contains the
32
-^ 250 —
ashes of the Confessor. In this chapel; also, are the tombs of several
kings and queens of England. The helmet of Henry V. is preserved, with
the saddle on which he rode at the battle of Agincourt; stripped of every-
thing, however, bat the wood and iron. At the eastern extremity of the
church, and opening up to it, is the famous chapel of Henry VII., one of
the finest specimens of Gothic architecture in the world. It was built at
an enormous expense, and Henry's tomb alone costs ten thousand pounds,
a sum equal to two hundred thousand pounds of the English money. The
mosaic pavement of the choir is an object of great beauty. It was made
by Archbishop Ware, and is formed of a great many pieces of jasper,
alabaster, porphyry, lapis lazuli, serpentine marble, and touchstone,
varying in size from half an inch to four inches.
Most of the English kings lie buried here, even down to the time of
George III. At his decease, in 1820, St. George's Chapel, Windsor, was
used for the, last resting place of royalty.
In going to Westminster Abbey one passes through the old gateway
called Temple Bar, where the heads of state malefactors used to be ex-
posed The gate at Temple Bar is always closed when it is known that
the reigning sovereign designs to visit the city : the ceremony on this
occasion is very imposing on account of the grandeur of the procession,
and the crowds of people which assemble to behold the spectacle. Before
the present gate was built, there was a bar or barrier of posts and chains,
which separated the Strand from Fleet Street, and which, from its vici-
nity to the Temple, received the name of Temple Bar.
There is another very interesting building near Westminster Abbey,
called Westminster Hall. It was built by William II. in 1097, and is
part of a palace which he erected on the side of one occupied by Edward
the Confessor. The ceiling is said to be the largest in Europe unsupport-
ed by pillars. The Parliament used formerly to meet in this hall, and
it is now used for state trials, and on some other occasions. Close to
this structure, and communicating with it by a passage, were the build-
ings in which the parliament used to meet: these contained a variety of
apartments connected by passages. In 1834, a terrible fire burnt down a
great part of these buildings, and new Houses of Parliament have been
erected. The vault, called Guy Fawkes's cellar, situated under the House
of Lords, was the old kitchen of Edward the Confessor's palace. Within
it the gunpowder and other combustibles, intended to blow up the king
— 251 —
and parliament, were deposited by the conspirators, in the reign of
James I. in 1605; and at the entrance of the vault Guy Fawkes was
seized the night before the intended execution of his plot.
The new Houses of Parliament are much handsomer and more com-
modious than the old. This very handsome pile of buildings was erected
under the superintendence of Sir C. Barry; the first stone was laid on
the 27. of April 18'iO. The style is of richly decorated gothic, and will
be memorable for ages, as the largest building of this kind in the world.
It covers an area of eight acres, and has four fronts and three principal
towers. The north part of the building is devoted to the House of Com-
mons and the various Committee rooms and other offices. The House of
Lords is decorated in a most gorgeous style with richly gilt mouldings,
emblazonings of arms, stained glass, and fine pictures of historical sub-
jects. There is also a stranger's gallery, to which persons having orders
signed by members are admitted.
In this neighbourhood the Queen has an extensive old palace called
St. James's, and another much more splendid, and far more costly, call-
ed Buckingham Palace. This palace, with its triumphal arch, magnificent
gates of mosaic gold, quadrangles, columns, capitals, pediments, enta-
blatures, and internal magnificence, is a wondrous pile. King George
said it was not «a King's Palace, but a Palace for Kings».
The Bank of England, in Threadneedle Street, is the first place in
the whole world with respect to money matters. What heaps of gold !
what piles of bank notes does one see there! It is said to contain gene-
rally eighteen millions of gold sovereigns.
It is very large, and of different kinds of architecture, and looks as
though it would be no easy matter .to get out any of the gold it contains
against the will of the owners. The present building was opened for
business in May 1817. Its length is four hundred and ninety feet, and
breadth one hundred and eight feet.
Over the hall is a very curious clock; it has in the different rooms
of the Bank sixteen clock faces, and the hands are all moved by brass
rods fixed to this one clock.
The tower, a renowned fortress, is situated on the N. bank of the
Thames, at the E. extremity of the city. The White tower appears to
have been built by William the Conqueror, and it then formed the prin-
cipal nucleus, as it still presents the most prominent feature, of the pre-
— 252 —
sent imposing aggregate of towers and fortifications. It was used in
former times for a state-prison; is was here that the unfortunate Lady
Jane Grey was confined and executed. The tower as it now exists, is a
great irregular pile of buildings, surrounded by a ditch, now dry, and
separated fram the Thames by a platform. The exterior circuit of the
ditch is .^156 feet. The tower is capable of accommodating upwards of
900 -soldiers; but the force usually occupying it does not exceed 500 or
600. The new jewel-office, erected in 1840, is of the Elizabethan style
of architecture, and of a very massive construction, the walls being up-
wards of 3 feet in thickness, and the whole bomb proof in every part.
The regalia are placed in the centre of the apartment in a case of plate
glass mounted in polished brass, and surrounded by an octagonal enclo-
sure of iron-railing. The room is lit by windows so constructed as to
direct a full blaze of light upon the jewels which are raised upon pede-
stals covered with rich velvet.
Y. The Streets of London.
The appearance presented by the streets of London an hour before
sun rise, on a summer's morning, is most striking. There is an air of
cold, solitary desolation about the noiseless streets, which we are ac-
customed to see thronged at other times by a busy, eager crowd, and
over the quiet closely shut buildings, which throughout the day are
swarming with life and bustle, that is very impressive. The last house-
less vagrant, whom penury and police have left in the streets, has coil-
ed up his chilly limbs in some paved corner, to dream of food and
warmth. The drunkard, the dissipated and the wretched have dissappear-
ed: the more sober and orderly part of the population have not yet
awakened to the labour of the day, and the stillness of death is over the
streets. The coachstands in the larger thoroughfares are deserted: the
night-houses are closed; and the chosen promenades of misery are empty.
An occasional policeman may alone be seen at the street-corners; and
now and then a cat runs across the road. A partially opened bedroom
window here and there bespeaks the heat of the weather and the uneasy
slumbers of its occupant; and the dim scanty light, through the window
— 253 —
bliod denotes the chamber of watching or sickness. With these excepti-
ons the streets present no signs of life, nor the houses of habitation.
An hour wears away; the spires of the churches and roofs of the
principal buildings are faintly tinged with the light of the rising sun,
and the streets begin to resume their bustle and animation. Market-carts
roll slowly along; the sleepy waggoner impatiently urging on bis tired
horses, or vainly endeavouring to awaken the boy who, stretched on the
top of the fruit- baskets, forgets his long cherished curiosity to behold
the wonders of London.
Sleepy-looking men begin to take down the shutters of early public
houses; and little deal tables, with their ordinary preparation for a street-
breakfast, make their appearance at the customary stations. Numbers
of men and women, carrying upon their heads heavy baskets of fruit,
toil down their way to Covent garden, and following each other in rapid
succession, form a long straggling line.
Here and there a bricklayer's labourer, with the day's dinner tied
up in a handkerchief, walks briskly to his work, and occasionally a little
knot of three or four schoolboys on a stolen bathing expedition, rattle
merrily over the pavement, their mirth constrasting forcibly with the
demeanour of the little sweep who, having knocked and rung till his arm
aches, and being interdicted by a merciful legislature from endangering
his lungs by calling out, sits patiently down on the door-step until the
house-maid may happen to awake.
Covent garden-market, and the avenues leading to it, are thronged
with carts of all sorts, sizes, and descriptions. The pavement is already
strewed with decayed cabbage-leave's, broken haybands, and all the in-
describable litter of a vegetable market, men are shouting, horses neigh-
ing, boys fighting, basket-women talking. These and a hundred other
sounds form a compound discordant enough to a Londoner's ears, and
remarkably disagreeable to those of country gentlemen, who are sleeping
for the first time at an inn near it.
Another hour passes away, and the day begins in good earnest. The
servant of all work lights the fire and opens the street-door to take in
the milk. The mail goes to the coach office in due course, and the pass-
engers, who are going out by the early coach, stare with astonishment
at the passengers, who are coming in by the early coach, who look blue
and dismal, and are evidently under the influence of that odd feeling
— 254 —
produced by travelling. The coach -office is all alive, and the coaches,
which are just going out, are surrounded by the usual crowd of Jews,
who seem to consider, that it is quite impossible any man can mount
a coach without requiring at least six penny worth of oranges, a pen-
knife, a pocket book, a last year's almanack, a pencil case, a piece of
sponge and a small series of caricatures.
Half an hour more, and the sun darts his bright rays cheerfully down
the still half empty streets, and shines with sufficient force to rouse the
dismal laziness of the apprentice, who pauses every other minute from
his task of sweeping out the shop and watering the pavement in front
of it, to tell another apprentice how hot it will be to-day ; he is gazing
at the «Wonder» or the « Tally ho » or the «Nimrod» or some other
fast coach, till it is out of sight, when he reenters the shop. Cabs with
trunks and band-boxes between the driver's legs and outside the apron,
rattle briskly up and down the streets on their way to the coach- offices
or steam-packet wharfs; and the cab-drivers and hackney-coachmen polish
up the ornamental part of their vehicles. The shops are now completely
opened, and apprentices and shopmen are busily engaged in cleaning and
decking the windows for the day. The bakers' shops in town are filled
with servants and children waiting for the drawing of the first batch of
rolls.
Seven o' clock, and a new set of people fill the streets. The goods
in the shop- window are invitingly arranged; the carts have dissappeared
from Coventgarden; the waggoners have returned, and the costermongers
repaired to their ordinary « beats » in the suburbs, clerks are at their
offices, and gigs, cabs, omnibusses, and saddle horses are conveying their
masters to the same destination. The streets are thronged with a vast
concourse of people gay and shabby, rich and poor, idle and industrious,
and we come to the heat, bustle and activity of noon.
VI. Tlie river Thames.
The Thames traverses some of the richest districts of England; but
it is one of those rivers which rather derive their peculiar character from
the counlries through which they flow, than impose distinctive features
— 255 ~
on the landscape by the boldness and rapidity of their course. Even in
the most hilly districts, where its current is naturally strongest, the Tha-
mes can at no point be properly called a rapid stream ; but it is by no
means a sluggish river, and is throughout distinguishable for the majestic
progress of its pure and silvery stream which generally fills its verdant
banks, and is rarely discoloured with mud except after great floods. To
these, independently of its tidal floods, it is also occasionably liable; and
their influence has been very extensive, as well as of long continuance
in the level parts of its tract, making the whole country appear like a
sea, and many of the towns and villages on its banks like islands, when
viewed from the several eminences commanding the plain.
Its course is most distinguished by romantic scenery and natural be-
auty leading through valleys bounded by hills richly clothed with beech
woods, and finely embellished by the magnificent seats of many of the
highest nobility and gentry.
For many miles above the metropolitan vicinity, the river is enli-
vened with a multitude of small commercial craft, and latterly with river
steamers running to and from the metropolis; but here it becomes a great
and noble tide river, full of vessels of all description. The tides aflect it
for 1 5 or 1 6 miles above the city ; but the salt water comes no farther
than 30 m. below it. Such, however, is the volume and depth of water,
that vessels of 700 or 800 tons reach the city on its E. quarter.
There is nothing finer in London, than the view from Waterloo -bridge
on a July evening, whether coloured by the gorgeous hues of the setting
sun, reflected on the water in tenfold glory, or illuminated by a thousand
twinkling lights, from lamps, and boats, and houses, mingling with the
mild beams of the rising moon. The calm and glassy river, gay with
unnumbered vessels; the magnificent buildings which line its shores,
produce a picture gratifying alike to the eye and to the heart, The whole
voyage down the river presents a series of villages, magnificent seats,
splendid villas, beautiful pleasure grounds, and highly cultivated gardens.
It is worthy of remark, that notwithstanding the very existence of
London depends on the navigation of the Thames, insomuch that if this
river were rendered unnavigable, London would soon become a heap of
ruins, like Nineveh and Babylon, yet some of the passages of this im-
portant River are suff'ered to become half choked up and almost impass-
able from the increase and shifting of sandbanks.
— 256 —
There has heen formed in 1824 a ground thoroughfare for carriages
and passengers across the Thames, at a point, below all the bridges,
where, from the constant passage of shipping of all descriptions, the
erection of a bridge would have been highly inconvenient, if not practi--
cally impossible- Entering the ground by an easy spiral staircase for
passengers, and an entrance leading to a spiral roadway for carriges, the
tunnel crosses about 75 feet below the surface of the river at high water,
by two distinct avenues or arched vaults connected with each other by
openings, and comprising each a carriage-Avay and footpath. The
ground is arched, so that the tunnel, as a whole, may be said to consist
of two cylinders, with a central portion common to both. It issues, on
the S. side of the river, also by an inclined spiral plane and staircase
similar to those on the N. side. The engineer who had the high merit
of accomplishing this great work is Sir J. Brunei.
VII. Life and Manners of tbe Inhabitants of Scotland.
The Scots are commonly divided into two classes : the Highlanders
and Lowlanders, — the former occupying the northern and mountainous
provinces, and the latter the southern districts. These classes differ from
each other in language, manners, and dress. In their persons, the Scots
have an athletic bony frame, a hard weatherbeaten countenance, in-
dicating cool prudence and cautions circumspection, and broad and
high cheek-bones. Nor are the sources of this peculiarity of character
and conformation difficult to be discovered. Exposure to a climate rather
severe, with modes of living that may be styled spare rather than mo-
derate, give health and vigour to the body; while an early moral and
religious education imparts to the mental powers shrewdness, solidity,
and strength. In the case of the Highland and pastoral Scot, daily and
severe toil, the perpetual presence of scenery calculated to make a
deep and permanent impression on the feelings, — the broad expanse
of ocean, indented by rocky promontories, or studded with islands, the
gloomy glen for ever re-echoing the roar of innumerable streams pour-
ed from the craggy mountains, whose towering heads hide themselves
for a great part of the year amid the clouds, the rapid descent of thick
— 257 —
vapours, and the darkness of conflicting tempests, — give existence 'to
that daring and sublime, though sombre and romantic cast of thought
which so remarkably distinguishes Scotsmen in every quarter of the
world.
The Scots have been celebrated for their taste in music; and in song,
particularly of the pastoral and plaintive kind, they are unrivalled. The
origin of their national airs is still involved in much obscurity.
Attachment to his native soil has been considered, and perhaps not
without reason, as peculiarly characteristic of a Scotsman; although, con-
sidering the extent of her population, perhaps no country sends forth a
greater number of emigrants than Scotland. Many of these, however, it
may be observed, emigrate purely from the strength of this principle: a
few years of separation are endured to purchase the delight of closing
life happily and independently amid the scenes of infancy and youth.
Even the poor emigrants who have been forced to exile themselves from
their native Scotland, still carry with them their national feelings and
customs, and preserve the remembrance of their native woods and streams
and mountains in the names which they bestow upon the scenery of their
new abodes beyond the wide rolling Atlantic.
The chief distinction of the Scotsf rom the people of England origin-
ates in the difference of religion; that of Scotland being Presbyterianism,
that of England Episcopacy. This occasions a difference in the mode of
conducting baptisms, marriages, and funerals.
The Highlanders have a language, a dress, and many customs pecu-
liar to themselves. The Highland dress consists of a short coat, a vest,
a short kind of petticoat reaching scarcely so low as the knee, and
known by the name of a philabeg or kilt, with short hose, leaving the
knees entirely uncovered. The head is covered with a bonnet totally dif-
ferent in its appearance from the broad flat lowland bonnet; it is stiffened
so as to stand upright on the head, and has no slight resemblance to a
^ hat without a brim. The coat, the vest, the kilt, and the hose, are usu-
ally of tartan, — a kind of chequered stuff of various colours, often not
inelegant. Instead of the kilt, is sometimes substituted the belted plaid,
which is a large piece of tartan, part of it fastened round the body in
the form of a philabeg, a part tucked up to one of the shoulders, having
on the whole, a graceful appearance, and exhibiting a strong resemblance
to the dress of the ancient Romans. The Sprochan or pouch, formed ge-
33
- 258 -
nerally of some kind of fur, decorated with tassels and various other or-
naments, and fastened round the middle of the body, so as to hang down
before, is esteemed an essential part of the Highland garb.
To this, before the Highlanders were disarmed, were added a broad
sword, with a large basket handle, a dirk, or short dagger, a knife and
fork in the same sheath with the dirk, and in the girdle a pistol, often
much ornamented. The music of the Highlanders is in a great measure
peculiar; their favourite instrument, the bagpipe, though enthusiastically
admired by the Highlanders, is not, unless in very skilful hands, agree-
able to the natives of other countries. Dancing is a favourite Highland
amusement; but it is generally performed with more agility than grace.
The houses or huts of the Highlanders are mean structures of loose sto-
nes, generally without either chimney or grate. The fire is made upon
the hearth, in the middle of the house, the smoke finding its way out by
an aperture in the roof. The ordinary food of the Highland peasantry is
coarse and spare, consisting chiefly of oatmeal variously prepared, and
milk, in the neighbourhood of the sea, of fish. It may be here remarked
that the Scottish Highlanders are daily losing that exclusive attachment
to their ancient dress and manners by which they were formerly distin-
guished. They are rapidly adopting the dress and the customs of the low
country; and in a short time, it is probable the customs of the Highlands
will be described rather as manners which existed, than as manners still
existing in any part of the island.
VIII. Colonics and Dependencies of Great Britain.
Britain possesses upwards of thirty dependencies in different parts
of the world, which it acquired by virtue of discovery or conquest. The
dependencies are of two kinds -— military establishments, useful for the
concentration of naval forces, such as Gibraltar, Helgoland, Bermuda, and
St. Helena; and colonial possessions, valuable for trade and the reception
of emigrant settlers, but still more important as the means of extending
the English language, arts, and civilised usages. The chief colonies are
geographically connected with America and (he West Indies, and with
Australasia.
— 259 -
The Spaniards and Portuguese were (he first European nations that
colonised the New World, and, when the native Indians perished before
them, imported negroes from Africa to perform the agricultural labour
as slaves. The English were not slow to follow in their steps. Sir Walter
Raleigh formed a settlement in North America about the year 1607, and
called it Virginia, in honour of Queen Elizabeth. Two companies of mer-
chants enlarged the British territory, part of which received the name of
New England; and, subsequently, numerous bands of religious and political
refugees sought a home on its shores; but, when these colonies rose
in wealth and strength, they found themselves in a position to main-
tain their independence of the mother-country, and before the close of
the last century, achieved that independence ; so that they are now
no longer known as colonies, but as the independent republic of the
United States of America.
The settlements in the West Indian Islands began to flourish in the
half of the seventeenth century , when factories were established by
private companies in Barbadoes and St. Christopher's, and the culture
of the sugar-cane, transplanted from Brazil, was found to succeed. Dur-
ing the Protectorate of Cromwell, Jamaica was conquered from Spain,
and opened a new source of wealth. Trinidad, the smaller islands, the
district of Honduras or Belize, on the adjacent coast of North America,
and Guiana , in South America , have been acquired at various periods
since, and chiefly by conquest from Spain, Holland, and France. All
these territories are together denominated the British West Indies. They
are the oldest British colonies, and are rich in every tropical product,
yielding sugar, coffee, tobacco, cotton, cabinet timber, spices, fruits,
drugs, and dye-stuffs. Jamaica, the largest and most important of the
islands, has an area of more than five thousand square miles, with
a population of more than four hundred thousand, of which only about
thirty-eight thousand are whites, the majority being negroes, most of
whom were originally slave labourers. Trinidad, St. Lucia, Dominica,
Barbadoes, and the other islands belonging to Britain, may contain an
aggregate area of eighty-three thousand square miles, with a popula-
tion of about four hundred and sixty thousand, of which the greater
portion are negroes and Creoles. Belize is comparatively a small terri-
tory ; but Guiana has an area of sixty-seven thousand square miles,
with a population of more than one hundred thousand.
: _ 260 —
Since the abolition of slavery by tbe British government, the want
of labourers has been severely felt, the coloured population being ge-
nerally disinclined to hired labour, and the work to be done being un-
suitable to European constitutions. These colonies are, therefore, some-
what on the decline.
Since the independence of the North American states in 1776, the
British possessions in that continent have been wholly in the northern
section, embracing the province of Canada, the colonies of Nova Scotia,
Cape Breton, Prince Edward's Island, New Brunswick, and. Newfound-
land; and the vast region stretching to the Arctic Ocean, at present
occupied by savage tribes and the trappers of the Hudson's Bay Com-
pany. The whole population amounts to about three millions.
The rise of the British power In India is reckoned one of the most
surprising things in history. It originated in a charter granted in 1600
by Queen Elizabeth to a body of English merchants, since known as
the East India Company. In 1611, they received permission from the
native government at Delhi to establish factories at Surat, and other
spots in Eastern Hindostan- About the middle of the seventeenth cen-
tury, a settlement was formed at Madras; and by the marriage of
Charles II. with a princess of Portugal, the valuable position of Bombay
was also obtained. At the beginning of the eighteenth century, the French
influence in India was considerable, and their settlements superior to
the English; but from about the year 1750, when the forces of the two
nations came into collision, the French gradually gave way, while the
British territories rapidly extended; and a succession of conquests, al-
most forced upon, placed one district of India after another in the power
of Great Britain.
In 1773, It was deemed proper to place a check on the rapidly in-
creasing power of the Company, by the appointment of a governor-
general on behalf of the Crown. At a later period, a council and a
Board of Control were added. In 1780, Ilyder Ali, the sultan of My-
sore, suddenly burst into the Carnatic with an overwhelming force,
and ravaged all before him. The war, which was continued with va-
rious success under his son, Tippoo Saib, terminated at length in the
capture of Seringapatam and the death of Tippoo, whose kingdom be-
came the spoil of the English. Early in the present century, the jea-
lousy of some of the Mahratta rulers led to another war of conquest,
— 261 —
which gave the victor extensive territories in Central India, including
Delhi, the Mogul capital, and Agra, with the custody of the Mogul
emperor. A war provoked by the Burmese government in 1826, added
Assam and other provinces east of the Bay of Bengal to British India.
During the war with Aifghanistan, which lasted from 1839 till 1842,
it was felt to be very desirable for the British to command the na-
vigation of the Indus; and Lord EUenborough was induced to attempt
the acquisition of territory in Scindia. Here, also, the natives were
forced to yield before the superior prowess of Britain. In the adja-
cent kingdom of the Punjaub, events were still more remarkable. A
number of chiefs among the Sikhs contending for the vacant throne,
provoked a collision with the English forces in 1845. The war ter-
minated in 1849, by their unconditional surrender, and the Punjaub was
by proclamation annexed to Britis-h India.
AH territories lying in or near Hindostan,are known by the common
appellation of East Indies; and from their geographical position, yield
every species of tropical produce, as sugar, coffee, tea, rice, silk,
cotton, hardwoods, ivory, spices, fruits, drugs, dye-stuffs, and other
similar commodities. Goods to the value of more than eight millions
stmiing are annually exported from Britain to the East Indies; while
goods to the value of more than fourteen millions are imported from
the east. Indies to Britain.
In 1857 a most formidable insurrection broke out in the Indian
army. For many years the East India Company had maintained a large
force of native troops under British officers and armed and disciplined
in the European manner. These Sepoys, as they were called , were a
fine body of men, and had done excellent service in many wars; and
notwithstanding several instances of insubordination, very great con-
fidence was placed in them generally.
The cause of the outbreak is even now scarcely certain. Some
strange, unfounded suspicion of an attempt about to be made by the
British authorities for their forcible conversion to Christianity seems
to have found its way to the minds of the Sepoys, both Mohamedan
and Hindoo. This alarm was founded, or pretended to be founded, on
the issue, of new cartridges, adapted to the improved fire-arms now used
by all the infantry, and which it was supposed were greased with
the fat either of the cow, which is a sacred animal with the Brah-
- 262 —
mins, the highest caste of Hindoos, or of swine, which are an aho-
mination to the Mahomedans, as to the Jews.
The first very serious outbreak of this mutiny took place early
in May, at Meerut, a military station about thirty miles to the north
of Delhi. The insurgents murdered their officers and their families,
and marched to Delhi, where they were joined by the garrison,
consisting entirely of native regiments, and the atrocities committed
at Meerut were here repeated. They also took the nominal king of
Delhi, the lineal descendant of the Mogul sovereigns, a feeble old man,
who was then living in that magnificent capital a pensioner of the
East India company, and proclaimed him Emperor of India.
By the firm attitude assumed by the British in India, surprised
and outnumbered as they were, and placed in a position of unexam-
pled peril, by the prompt and powerful support sent out from home,
and by the distinguished talent and valour of their commanders, and
of many other most able men in every rank and of all conditions,
the most formidable military revolt that has ever been known was
crushed into mere fragments in less than a year. It is likewise to be
observed that throughout the whole of this critical period, neither the
mass of the population of India nor the princes of the country have
shown any sympathy with the mutineers. The insurrection was more-
over confined to the Bengal Presidency, the Madras and Bombay troops
having, with few exceptions, proved trustworthy.
A most important change in the government of India, of which
the necessity had long been foreseen, has been accelerated by the
events which have been now related. The great East India Company
w^as abolished, and its vast empire transferred to the direct dominion
of the Crown, Sept. 1, 1858.
In Australasia,, the British settlements are those of New South
Wales, of which that of Sydney, on the south shore of Port Jackson,
was established in 1788; Western Australia or Swan River, of which
the capital in Perth, in 1829; South Australia, of which Adelaide
is the capital; and Port Philip, or Victoria, of which Melbourne is
the capital, established iu 1837. North Australia was colonised in
1838, and Australia, and the western coast, about eighty miles south
of Swan River, was settled in 1841. The Colonisation of this part
of the world began by the practice of depositing criminals on the
— 263 -
coast of Australia, after the American war of independence put a stop
to their being transported to the plantations of the New World. One
spot, from the profusion of flowers found on it, was called Botany
Bay, long used as a penal settlement; and thus the town of Port
Jackson or Sydney had its origin. But the advantages of the place
tempted free emigrants to settle in it, and Van Clemen's Land be-
came the penal settlement instead of New South Wales. Many of the
inhabitants of Sydney removed to other parts of the coast, and were
joined by new emigrants. Thus arose the settlement of Port Philip,
at the southern extremity; of Swan River, far to the west; and Ade-
laide, with many smaller ones between them. Still more recently,
Port Essington became the nucleus of settlements in the north, but
they have not succeeded like the rest. The staple productions have
hitherto been^he wool, tallow, and hides of the numerous flocks of
sheep fed on the natural pasture. But the recent discovery of gold
is likely to change the aspect of affairs. The adjacent island of Van
Diemen's Land (which contains 24,000 square miles, or some what
less than Ireland) is the seat of another British colony, planted in
1824, and is altogether a thriving settlement being more hilly and
better watered than Australia. Its principal towns are Hobart-Town,
the capital, and Launceston. New Zealand, composed of three con-
tiguous islands, ranging from ilOO miles in length, with a breadth
varying from 5 to 200, is also the seat of a British colony; and if
its internal management would be fairly adjusted, it would probably
rise to firstrate importance. Two centuries have passed' since these
islands were first discovered by the Dutch; but little was known of
the natives till the voyages of Captain Cook. They were fierce, war-
like, cannibal tribes, whom Europeans cared not to meddle with. In
1837, however, a New Zealand Company was formed, and land bought
from the chiefs. The mother-country has since provided means of pro-
tection and government for the colonists.
At the Cape of Good Hope, Sierra Leone, Cape Coast, and other
parts of Africa, Britain possesses upwards of' 200,000 square miles,
with a population of 400,000. Cape Colony, taken from the Dutch
in 1806, has been a thriving settlement, and the recent colony at
Port Natal gave high promise; but a recent war with the Caffres has
been productive of much injury. The Mauritius, and some minor
islands in the Indian Ocean; the rocky islets of St. Helena and As-
cension, in the Atlantic; and Fernando Po, in the Gulf of Guinea,
complete the sum of British possessions connected with Africa. Their
principal products are ivory, gold, hides, horns, sugar, coffee, palm-
oil, teakwood, aloes, and articles of minor importance.
The laws and judicial usages- of England are extended to the
chief colonial possessions, along with all the rights and privileges
which are common to British subjets- Hence the inhabitants of the
most distant part of the empire, whatever be their origin, rank, or
colour, are entitled by the constitution to enjoy the same degree of
civil and religious liberty, and the same careful protection of life and
property as their fellow-subjects in the mother-country. This is - an
invaluable boon, for in no nation do the people practically enjoy
greater rational liberty of speech ar action, and in none is the press
more free. In India, the natives are subject to their own laws, and
in this privilege they are carefully protected by the British authori-
ties. Uninterrupted, likewise, in the exercise of their own peculiar
religious usages, sheltered from the oppression of native chiefs, and
instructed at schools which have been recently planted amongst them,
the inhabitants of India are really more happy and prosperous under
a foreign rule than they were under the dominion of the former so-
vereigns of the country.
According to the constitution, wherever Britain established her
civil authority, there also is established the Protestant Episcopalian
form of church government and worship, except in cases where pro-
vision to the contrary has been made by terms of capitulation. Prac-
tically, however, there is perfect freedom in the exercise of religious
belief and worship in all parts of the empire. In Lower Canada and
Malta, Roman Catholicism; in Hindostan, Brahminism and Bluhammed-
anism; and in Ceylon, the religion of Buddha, prevails. The Pro-
testant Presbyterian form of church government and worship, similar
to that of Scotland, predominates in the Cape of Good Hope, according
to agreement with the former Dutch occupants. In all the colonial
possessions, much is done by means of missionaries, to introduce a
knowledge of Christianity among the natives.
The English language now predominates over the whole United
Kingdom, with the exception of a portion of the Highlands of Scot-
^ 265 -
land, part of Ireland, part of the Isle of Man, and AVales; but in all
these places it is gradually superseding the native Celtic dialects. It
has been extended, by means of numerous dependencies abroad , over
nearly the whole of North American and the West India Islands; also
the Australian continent and islands, the Cape of Good Hope, part of
Hindostan and Ceylon arid various other places, including several is-
lands in the Pacific. This diffusion of the English tongue, and with
it the Christian religion, as well as English literature and habits of
thought, over so large a portion of the earth's surface, is perhaps
the most extraordinary fact, connected with the -history of modern
civilisatioii.
XI. Commerce and Manufactures of Great-Britain.
The eminent importance attained by the British in the scale of
nations appears to depend mainly upon two features of the common
character — the high moral and intellectual character of the people
at large, and their extraordinary skill in producing articles of necesity
and luxury, as well as their dexterity in the commerce by which these
are diffused over the world.
In manufactures and commerce Britain has long enjoyed a supe-
iority over all other countries. For this the nation has been indebted,
not only to their naturally industrious dispositions and the enlightened
men, who have in the course of time invented machinery for increas-
ing and cheapening the products of labour, but to the extraordinary abun-
dance of mineral substances requisite for manufactures, and to the in-
sular nature of the country, which admits of ready maritime commu-
nication with other regions. In consequence of these advantages com-
bined, Britain has for a long time furnished articles of clothing and
household conveniency to many parts of the world, receiving in ex-
change either money or acticles of value. The cotton manufacture, not-
withstanding that the raw material can be obtained only in distant
parts of the earth, has risen in Great Britain, during seventy years
from about 200,000 pound of annual import to the enormous sum
of 965 millions, of which more than one half is exported again. Cotton
34
- 266 —
goods are manufactured chiefly by means of machinery, in large fac-
tories, the chief seats of the manufacture being Manchester, Glasgow,
Paisley. Cotton goods are also manufactured by hand-loom weavers,
of whom a considerable number continue to strive against the over-
powering competition of machinery.
The Woolen Manufacture is the oldest in Britain. The west of Eng-
land is the chief seat of this manufacture. The silk Manufacture, in-
troduced by French Emigrants in the sixteenth century, is carried on
to a great extent at Spitalfields, Coventry, Manchester, Paisley, and
Glasgow. The Hard-ware Manufacture is one in which the skill of British
workmen has long given them a high reputation. Iron to the amount
of nearly 2 millions of tons was, in 1866 prepared from British mines
for the purpose of being manufactured into articles of conveniency.
The manufacture of the finer class of hardware is chiefly seated at
Birmingham and Sheffield, while canon and machinery are produced
on an extensive scale at Carron in Scotland. The manufacture of earthen-
ware, china and glass is also carried on to a great extent.
The commerce of Britain is conducted by vessels belonging to private
parties within the realm, or in other countries. In 1865 the mercantile
navy of the home country and its colonies consisted of nearly thirty
thousand vessels, of nearly five millions of aggregate tonnage, and na-
vigatred by a three hundred and eighty-five thousand men. We obtain,
however, a more distinct idea of the extent of the national commerce
from a calculation of the number of vessels, British and foreign, which
in 1865, entered and departed from British harbours. These were —
of British, twenty-one thousand nine hundred; of foreign twelve thousand
eight hundred; comprehending an aggregate of about ten millions of
tonnage. The chief mercantile port of Britain is London, after which
Liverpool, Dublin, Hull and Greenock,. rank in succession. Duties ex-
ceeding twenty millions are annually paid to Government for goods im-
ported into London ; and harbour dues to the amount of two hundred
and fifty thousand pounds were collected in 1860, for vessels in the
docks at Liverpool, which have a waterroom of a hundred and eleven
acres and a quay -space of eight miles. -
Besides tea, wine, and sugar the imports of Britain consist chiefly
of raw materials for manufactures, while the exports, are almost exclu-
sive by manufactured goods. The greatest quantity of imports is from
_ 267 —
America; the greatest quantity of exports, to tlie same part of the world.
Tea is obtained from China; wine chiefly from Portugal and Spain, Sugar,
is exclusively imported from the West Indies. Cotton in its raw state
is obtained chiefly from the United States and in lesser quantities from
Brazil and Egypt. Of wool the coarser sort is obtained at home, while
the finer kinds are imported from Germany and the colonies of Australia.
Tallow, hemp and timber, are imported from Russia.
Poetry.
i. The Busy Bee.
«Little bee, come here and say
What you're doing all the day«?
« Oh, every day, and all day long,
•Among the flowers you hear my
song.
I creep in every bud I see,
And all the honey is for me;
I take it to the hive with care,
And give it to my brothers there:
That when the winter time com-
es on,
And all the flowers are dead and
gone,
And when the wind is cold and
rough.
The busy bee may have enough* .
2. The lazy Fly.
« Little fly, come here and say
What you're doing all the day?
«0h, I'm a gay and merry fly,
I never do anything — no, not I — '
I go where I like, and I stay where I please,
In the heat of the sun, or the shade of the trees,
On the window-pane, or the cup-board shelf;
And I care for nothing except myself.
- 268 —
I cannot tell, it is very true,
When the winter comes, what I mean to do:
And I very much fear, when I'm getting old,
I shall starve with hunger, or die of cold».
3. The Field Daisy.
Tm a little pretty thing,
Always coming with the spring;
In the meadows green I'm found,
Peeping just above the ground;
And my stalk is covered flat
With a white and yellow hat.
Little lady, when you pass
Lightly o^er the tender grass.
Skip about, but do not tread
On my meek and healthy head,
For I always seem to say:
«Surely, Winter's gone away*.
4. The Little Coward.
Why, here's a foolish little man,
Laughtathim, donkey, if you can;
And cat, and dog, and cow, and
calf.
Come every one of you and laugh :
For only think, he runs away,
If honest donkey does but bray !
And when the bull begins to
bellow,
He's like a crazy little fellow.
Poor Brindle cow can hardly pass
Along the edge to nip the grass,
Or wag her tail to lash the flies,
But off he runs and out he cries.
And when old Tray comes
jumping too,
With bow, wow, wow, for
how d'ye do,
And means it all for civil play,
'Tis sure to make him run away.
5. The Evening Bells.
Those evenings-bells, those evenings-bells.
How many a tale their music tells
Of youth, and home, and that sweet time,
When last I heard their soothing chime.
- 269 -
Those joyous hours are passed away
And many a heart that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening-bells.
And so't will be when I am gone:
That tuneful peal will still ring on,
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing our praise, sweet evening-bells!
Th. Moore.
0. The Disobedient Little Fisb.
«Dear Mother*, said a little fish,
«Pray is not that a fly?
I'm very hungry, and I wish
You'd let me go and try*.
« Sweet innocent* ,the mother cried
And started from her nook,
«That horrid fly is put to hide
The sharpness of the hook».
Now, as Tve heard, this little
trout
Was young and foolish too,
And so he thought he'd venture
out
To see if it were true.
And round about the hook he
playM
With many a longing look,
And — «Dear me», to himself
he said,
«rm sure that's not a hook*.
I can but give a little pluck:
Let's see, and so I will*.
So, on he went, and lo ! it struck
Quite through his little gill.
And as he faint and fainter grew
With hollow voice he cried:
«Dear Mother, had I minded you,
I need not now have. died*.
7. The Idle Boy.
Young Thomas was an idle lad,
And lounged about all day;
And though he many a lesson had,
He minded nought but play.
He only car'd for tops and ball,
Or marbles, hoop, and kite;
But as for learning, that was all
Neglected by him quite.
— 270 —
In vaio his mother's kind advice,
Id vain his master's care;
He followed ev'ry idle vice,
And learned to curse and swear.
Without a shilling in his purse,
Or cot to call his own,
Poor Thomas grew from bad to
worse,
And hardened as a stone.
And oh ! it grieves me much to
write
His melancholy end;
Then let us leave the dreadful
sight,
And thoughts of pity send.
Bui may we this important truth
Observe and ever hold,
«That most who're idle in their youth,
Are wicked, when they're old».
And think you, when lie grew a
man,
He prospered in his ways?
No — wicked courses never can
Bring good and happy days.
8. The
Monkey, little merry fellow.
Thou art Nature's Punchinello;
Full of fun as Puck could be —
Harlequin might learn of thee!
In the very ark, no doubt,
You went frolicking about,
Never keeping in your mind
Drowned monkeys left behind.
Have you no traditions? — none
Of the court of Solomon?
No memorial how you went
With Prince Hiram's armament?
Look at him now! — slily peep;
He pretends he is asleep;
Fast asleep upon his bed,
With his arm beneath his head.
Monkey.
Now that posture is not right,
And he is not settled quite;
There! that's better than before —
And the knave pretends to snore.
Ha! he is not half asleep;
See, he slily takes a peep.
Monkey, though your eyes were
shut,
You could see this little nut.
You shall have it, pigmy brother !
What! another! and another!
Nay , your cheeks are like a sack, —
Sit down, and begin to crack.
There the little ancient man
Cracks as fast as crack he can!
Now good-bye, my merry fellow,
Nature's primest Punchinello.
Mary Howitt.
— 271
9. QiicstioDS and Answers.
Who' showed the little ant the way
Her narrow hole to bore,
And spend the pleasant summer day
In laying up her store?
The sparrow builds her clever nest
Of wool, and hay, and moss:
Who told her how to weave it best,
And lay the twigs across?
Who taught the busy bee to fly
Among the sweetest flowers,
And lay his feast of honey by,
To eat in winter hours?
'T was God who showed them all
the way,
And gave their little skill,
And teaches children, if they pray,
To do his holv will.
10. A Morning Hymn.
My father, I thank thee for sleep,
For quiet and peceable rest;
I thank thee for stooping to keep,
An infant from being distrest.
0, how can a poor little creature repay
Thy fatherly kindness by night and by day !
My voice would be lisping thy praise,
My heart would repay thee with love;
0 teach me to walk in thy ways,
And fit me to see thee above:
For Jesus said: «Let little children come nigh!*
And he will not despise such an infant as I.
As long as thou seest it right,
That here upon earth I should stay,
1 pray thee to guard me by night,
And help me to serve thee by day;
That when all the days of my life shall have past,
I may worship thee better in heaven at last.
11. All Eveoing Hyin-u.
Lord, I have passed another day,
And come to thank thee for thy care,
Forgive my faults in work and play,
And listen to my evening prayer.
Thy favour gives me daily bread,
And friends who all my wants supply;
And safely now I rest my head,
Preserved and guarded by thine eye.
Look down in pity and forgive,
Whate'er I've said or done amiss;
And help me every day I live
To serve thee better than in this. ■
Now while I speak, be pleased to take
A helpless child beneath thy care;
And condescend, for Jesus' sake
To listen to my evening prayer.
12. The Great Shepherd.
Knowest thou how many stars
There are shining in the sky?
Knowest thou how many clouds
Every day go floating by?
God, the Lord, has counted all;
He would miss one should it fall.
Knowest thou how many flies
Flicker in the noon-day sun?
Or of fishes in the water?
God has counted every one.
Every one he called by name,
When into the world it came.
Knowest thou how many babes
Go to little beds at night?
That without a care or trouble
Wake up with the morning light?
God in heaven each name can tell;
Knows thee too, and loves thee well.
273
13. The Glow Worm.
Beneath the hedge, or near the
stream ,
A worm is known to stray,
That shows by nighta lucid beam,
Which disappears by day.
Disputes have been and still pre-
vail,
From whence his rays proceed;
Some give that honuor to his tail,
And others to his head.
But this is sure, the hand of night,
That kindless up the skies,
Gives him a modicum of light,
ProportionM to his size.
Perhaps indulgent nature meant,
By such a lamp bestow'd.
To bid the traveller as he went,
Be careful where he trod.
Nor crush a worm, whose useful
light
Might serve, however small,
To showa stumbling stone by night,
And save him from a fall
Whate'er she meant, this truth
divine
Is legible and plain,
'Tis power almighty bids him
shine ,
Nor bids him shine in vain.
Ye proud and wealthy, let this then
Teach humbler thoughts to you,
Since such a reptile has its gem,
And boasts its splendour too.
Cowper.
14. God Piovidelh for the Morrow.
Lo, the lilies of the field,
How their leaves instruction yield I
Hark to Nature's lesson, given
By the blessed birds of heaven !
Every bush and tufted tree
Warbles sweet philosophy :
Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow,
God provideth for the morrow !
3S
— 274 —
Say, with richer crimson glows
The kingly mantle than the rose?
Say, have kings more wholesome fare
Than we poor citizens of air?
Barns nor hoarded grains have we,
Yet we carol merrily.
Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow,
God provideth for the morrow!
One there lives, whose guardian eye
Guides our humble destiny;
One there lives, who Lord of all,
Keeps our feathers lest they fall.
Pass we blithely then the time,
Fearless of the snare and lime,
Free from doubt and faithless sorrow:
God provideth for the morrow !
(Reginal'd Heber).
15. Paraphrase on Psalm XXHI.
The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye :
My noon-day walks he shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.
When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountain pant;
To fertile vales and dewy meads
My weary wandering steps he leads:
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.
— 275
Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,
For thoQ, 0 Lord, art with me still;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Though in a bare and rugged way,
Throutjh devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my wants beguile:
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crown'd ,
And streams shall murmur all around.
(Addison).
16. We A
A simple child
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb.
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage girl;
She was eight years old, she
said;
Her hair was thick with many a
curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair —
Her beauty made me glad.
« Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?»
«How many? Seven in all", she
said,
And wondering looked at me.
re Seven.
«And where are they? I pray you,
telb.
She answered: « Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
«Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And in the churchyard-cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mo-
ther*.
«You say that two at Conway
dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
Yet ye are seven! — I pray you,
tell.
Sweet maid, how this maybe?»
Then did the little maid reply,
« Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie.
Beneath the churchyard tree.
276
jYou run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are- alive;
If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five. »
« Their graves are green, they may
be seen,))
The little maid replied,
« Twelve steps or more from my
• mother's door,
And they are side by side.
stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem,
And there upon the ground I sit —
I sit and sing to them.
«And often after sunset, sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.
«The first that died was little Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain,
And then she went away.
kSo in the churchyard she was
laid;
And all the summer dry,
Together round her grave we
playM --
My brother John and I.
«And when the ground was white
with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to
go —
And he lies by her side.>
«How many are you then, » said I,
If they two are in heaven ?.»
The little maiden did reply:
«0 master! we are seven. »
«But they are dead; those two are dead!
• Their spirits are in heaven !»
'Twas throwing words away; for still
The little maid would have her will,
And said: «Nay, we are seven !»
Wordsworth.
17. The Bundle of Sticks.
A good old man, — no matter where
Whether in York or Lancashire,
Or on a hill, or in a dale,
It cannot much concern our tale, —
Had children very much like others,
— 277 —
Composed of sisters and of brothers;
In life he had not much to give,
Save his example how to live;
His luck was what his neighbours had;
For some were good, and some were bad;
When of their father death bereft 'em,
His good advice was all he left 'em.
This good old man who long had lain
Afflicted with disease and pain,
With difficulty drew his breath,
And felt the sure approach of death.
He still had lived an honest life,
Kind to his neighbour and his wife;
His practice good, his faith was sound,
He built his hopes on Scripture ground;
And knowing life hangs on a breath,
He always lived prepared for death;
He trusted God, nor feared to die —
May it be thus with you and I!
Nor let us hope to die content,
Unless our lives be wisely spent.
He called his children round his bed,
And with a feeble voice he said:
sAlas! Alas! my children dear,
1 well perceive my end is near :
I suffer much, but kiss the rod,
And bow me to the will of God.
Yet ere from you I'm quite removed,
From you whom always I have loved,
I wish to give you all my blessing,
And leave you with a useful lesson;
That when Tve left this world of care,
Each may his testimony bear,
How much my latest thoughts inclined
To prove me tender, good, and kind!
Observe that fagot on the ground,
With twisted hazel firmly bound ».
— 278 -
The children turned their eyes that way,
And viewed the fagot as it lay?
But wondered what their father meant,
Who thus expounded his intent:
«I wish that all of you would take it,
And try if any one can break it».
Obedient to the good old man,
They all to try their strength began:
Now boy, now girl, now he, now she,
Applied the fagot to their knee;
They tuggM and strain'd, and tried again,
But still they tugg'd and tried in vain!
In vain their skill and strength exerted;
The fagot every effort thwarted;
And when their labour vain they found,
They threw the fagot on the ground.
Again the good old man proceeded
To give the instructions which they needed :
« Untwist «, says he, «the hazel bind,
And let the fagot be disjoined ».
Then stick by stick, and twig by twig,
The little children and the big,
Following the words their father spoke,
Each sprig and spray they quickly broke:
« There, father!* all began to cry,
«rve broken mine! — and I! — and I!»
Replied the sire : « 'Twas my intent
My family to represent:
While you are join'd in friendship's throng.
My dearest children, you'll be strong!
But if by quarrel and dispute,
You undermine affection's root,
And thus the strengthening cord divide.
Then will my children ill betide:
E'en beasts of prey in bands unite,
And kindly for each other fight;
— 2*79 —
And shall not Christian children be
Joln'd in sweet links of amity?
If separate, you will each be weak;
Each like a single stick will break:
But if you're firm, and true and hearty,
The world, and all its spite, can't part ye».
The father having closed his lessou,
Proceeded to pronounce his blessing:
Embraced them all, then prayM and sighM,
Look'd up and dropp'd his head — and died.
Application.
And thus, my countrymen, should you,
And I, and all, be firm and true;
If Christian faith and love combine us,
And sweet afi'ection's cord entwine us,
We need encourage no dejection,
Secure in the Divine protection;
In prospex'ous days we'll bless our God,
And when He smites, we'll kiss the rod.
18. The Hare and the Tortoise.
In days of yore, when Time was young,
When birds conversed as well as sung,
When power of speech was not confined
To animals of human kind, —
A forward Hare, of swiftness vain.
The genius of the neighbouring plain,
Would oft deride the trudging crowd;
For geniuses are ever proud.
He'd boast his flight 'twere vain to follow,
For dog and horse, heM beat them hollow: -
Nay, if he put forth all his strength,
Outstrip his brethren half a length.
A Tortoise heard his vain oration,
And vented thus his iudiguation:
— 280 ~
«0h Puss! it bodes thee dire disgrace,
Wlien I defy thee to the race.
Come, 'tis a match; — nay, no denial;
I'll 'lay my shell upon the trial».
'Twas done and done — all fair — a bet ~
Judges prepared, and distance set.
The scampering Hare outsripped the wind;
The creeping Tortoise lagged b'ehind,
And scarce had passed a single pole.
When Pass had almost reached the goal.
«Friend Tortoises, quoth the jeering Hare,
«Your burden's more than you can bear;
To help your speed, it were as well
That I should ease you of your shell:
Jog on a little faster pr'ythee;
I'll take a nap, and then be with thee».
The Tortoise heard his taunting jeer,
But still resolved to presevere;
Still drawled along, as one might say,
Winning, like Fabius, by delay;
On to the goal securely crept,
While Puss, unknowing, soundly slept.
The bets were won; — the Hare awoke,
And thus the victor Tortoise spoke:
«Puss, though I own thy quicker parts,
Things are not always done by starts;
You may deride my awkward pace, —
But slow and steady wins the race».
Lloyd.
19. Destruction ofSeiiHncherib.
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold.
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed on- the face of the foe as he pass'd;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxM deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide.
But through it there roll d not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone.
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord. ^
Byron.
20. Pity for Poor Africans.
I own I am shocked at the purchase of slaves,
And fear those who buy them and sell them are knaves;
What I hear of their hardships, their tortures and groans,
Is almost enough to draw pity from stones.
I pity them greatly, but I must be mum.
For how could we do without sugar and rum?
Especially sugar, so needful we see !
What! give up our desserts, our coffee, and tea!
36
— 2B2 —
Besides, if we do, the French, Dutch, and Banes
Will heartily thank us, no doubt, for our pains;
If we do not buy the poor creatures, they will,
And tortures and groans will be multiplied still.
If foreigners likewise would give up the trade.
Much more in behalf of your wish might be said :
But while they get riches by purchasing blacks,
Pray tell me why we may not also go snacks ?
Your scruples and arguments bring to my mind
A story so pat, you may think it is coin'd,
On purpose to answer you, out of my mint;
But I can assure you, I saw it in-print.
A youngster at school, more sedate than the rest.
Had once his integrity put to the test;
His comrades had plotted an orchard to rob,
And asked him to go and assist in the job.
He was shock'd, Sir, like you, and answer'd «0h no:
What! rob our good neighbour! I pray you donit go;
Besides, the man's poor, his orchard's his bread, '
Then think of his children, for they must be fed».
«You speak very fine, and you look very grave,
But aples we want, and apples we'll have;
If you will go with us, you shall have a share,
If not, you shall have neither apple nor pear».
They spoke and Tom ponder'd — «I see they will go:
Poor Man! what a pity to injure him so! —
Poor Man! I would save him his fruit if I could,
But staying behind will do him no good.
If the matter depended alone upon me,
His apples might hang till they dropp'd from the tree;
But since they will take them, I think I'll go too,
He will lose none by me, though I get a few.
— 283 -
His scruples thus silenc'd, Tom felt more at ease, ^'
And went with his comrades, the apples to seize;
He blam'd and protested, but joined in the plan;
He shar'd in the plunder, but pitied the man,
Cowper.
21. My Heart's in the His^hlands.
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands, a chasing the deer,
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe —
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birthplace of valour, the country of worth !
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.
Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow ;
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;
Farewell to the torrents and wild-pouring floods !
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here.
My heart's in the Highlands, a chasing the deer,
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe —
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.
(Robert Burns).
22. Rule Britannia.
When Britain first at Heaven's
Command
Arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter of her land,
And guardian angels sang the
strain:
Rule Britannia ! Britannia rule the
waves !
Britons never shall be slaves !
The nations not so blest as thee
Must in their turn to tyrants fall,
— 284 —
Whilst thou shalt flourish great
and free,
The dread and envy of them all.
Rule Britannia! etc.
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
HQie dreadful from each foreign
• stroke;
As the loud blast that tears the
skies
Serves but to root thy native oak.
Rule Britannia! etc.
Thee haughty tj rants ne'er shall
tame;
All their attempts to bend thee
down
Will but arouse thy generous flame
And work their woe and thy re-
nown.
Rule Britannia! etc.
To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce
shine,
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine!
Rule Britannia ! etc.
The Muses, still with Freedom
found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair:
Blest Isle, with matchless beauty
crown'd.
And manly hearts to guard the
fair: —
Rule Britannia! Britannia rule the
waves!
Britons never shall be slaves !
(Thomson).
23. The Inchcape Rock.
No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
The ship was still as she could be.
Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.
Without either sign or sound of their shock
The waves flow'd over the Inchcape Rock;
So little they rose, so little they fell.
They did not move the Inchcape Bell.
The Abbot of Aberbrothok
Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;
On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
And over the waves its warning run.
— 285 — *
When the Rock was hit by the surge's swell,
The mariners heard the warning bell;
And then they knew the perilous Rock,
And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok.
The Sun in heaven was shining gay,
All things were joyful on that day; -
The sea-birds scream'd as they wheel'd round,
And there was joyance in their sound.
The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen
A darker speck on the ocean green;
Sir Ralph the Rover walk'd his deck,
And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.
He felt the cheering power of spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing;
His heart was mirthful to excess,
But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.
His eye was on the Inchcape float;
Quoth he, «My men. put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
And ril plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok ».
The boat is lower'd, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape Rock they go;
Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,
And he cut the Bell from the Inchcape float.
Down sunk the Bell with a gurgling sound,
The bubles rose and burst around;
Quoth Sir Ralph, «The next who comes to the Rock
Wo'nt bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok*.
Sir Ralph the Rover sailM away,
He scour'd the seas for many a day;
And now grown rich with plundered store,
He steers his course for Scotland's shore.
— 286 —
So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky
They cannot see the Sun on high;
The wind hath blown a gale all day,
At evening it hath died away.
On the deck the Rover takes his stand,
So dark it is they see no land.
Quoth Sir Ralph, «lt will be lighter soon,
For there is the dawn of the rising Moono.
« Canst hear», said one, «the breakers roar?
For methinks we should be near the shore ».
«Now where we are I cannot tell,
But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell!
They hear no sound, the swell is strong;
Though the wind hath fallen they drift along,
Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock, —
«0h Christ! it is the Inchcape Rock!»
Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair;
He curst himself in his despair ;
The waves rush in on every side.
The ship is sinking beneath the tide.
But even in his dying fear
One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,
A sound as if with the Inchcape Bell,
The Devil below was ringing his knell.
(Robert Southey).
24. Sir Lancelot du Lake.
When Arthur first in court began,
And was approved king.
By force of arms great victories
wan,
And conquest home did bring.
Then into England straight he
came,
Where fifty good and able
Knights then resorted unto him.
And were of his Round table :
287
And he had justs and turnaments,
Whereto were many prest,
Wherein these knights did far
excell
And eke surmount the rest.
But one Sir Lancelot du Lake,
Who was approved well,
He for his deeds and feats of arms
All others did excell.
When he had rested him a while,
In play, and game, and sport,
He said he would go prove himself
In some adventurous sort.
He armed rode in a forest wide,
And.met a damsel fair,
Who told him of adventures great.
Whereto he gave great care.
Such would I find, quoth Lancelot,
For that cause came I hither.
Thou seemst, quoth she, a knight
full good,
And I will bring thee thither.
Whereas a mighty knight doth
dwell,
That now is of great fame :
Therefore tell me what wight thou
art,
And what may be thy name.
«My name is Lancelot du Lake.*
Quoth she, it likes me then:
Here dwells a knight who never
was
Yet matched with any man:
Who has in prison threescore
knights
And four, that he did wound ;
Knights of King Arthur's court
they be.
And of his Table Round.
She brought him to a river side,
And also to a tree.
Whereon a copper bason hung.
And many shields to see.
He struck so hard, the bason broke;
And Tarquin soon he spied :
Who drove a horse before him fast,
Whereon a knight lay tied.
Sir knight, then said Sir Lancelot,
Bring me that horse- load hi-
ther,
And lay him down, and let him
rest;
We^ll try our force together:
For, as I understand, thou hast,
So far as thou art able,
Done great despite and shame unto
The knights of theRound Table.
If thou be of the Table Round,
Quoth Tarquin speedily,
Both thee and all thy fellowship
I utterly defy.
That's over much, quoth Lancelot
though.
Defend thee by and by.
They set their spurs unto their
steeds,
And each at other fly.
— 288
They couched their spears, (their
horses ran,
As though there had been
thunder)
And struck them each immidst
their shields,
Wherewith they broke in sun-
der.
Their horses' backs brake under
them,
The knights were both astound :
To avoid their horses they made
haste
And light upon the ground.
They took them to their shields
full fast,
Their swords they drew out
then.
With mighty strokes most eagerly
Each at the other ran.
They wounded were, and bled full
sore.
They both for breath did stand,
Andleaningon their swords awhile,
Quoth Tarquin, Hold thy hand.
And tell to me what I shall ask.
Say on, quoth Lancelot though.
Thou art, quoth Tarquin, the best
knight
That ever I did know;
And like a knight that I did hate:
So that thou be not he,
I will deliver all the rest,
And eke accord with thee.
That is well said, quoth Lancelot:
But sith it must be so,
What knight is that thou hatest
thus?
I pray thee to me show.
His name is Lancelot du Lake
He slew my brother dear;
Him I suspect of all the rest:
I would I had him here.
Thy wish thou hast, but yet un-
known,
I am Lancelot du Lake,
Now knight of Arthur's Table
Round,
King Hand's son of Benwake;
•
And 1 desire thee do thy worst.
Ho, ho, quoth Tarquin though.
One of us two shall end our lives
Before that we do go.
If thou be Lancelot du Lake,
Then welcome shalt thou be:
Wherefore see thou thyself defend,
For now defy I thee.
They buckled then together so,
Like unto wild boars rashing
And with their swords and shields
they ran
At one another slashing:
The ground besprinkled was with
blood:
Tarquin began to yield;
For he gave back for weariness.
And low did bear his shield.
289
This soon Sir Lancelot espied,
He leapt upon him then,
He pullM him down upon his
knee,
And, rushing off his helm.
Forthwilhhestruckhisneckintwo,
And, when be had so done.
From prison threescore knights
and four
Delivered every one.
25. King Leir and His Three Daughters,
King Leir once ruled in this land
"With princely power and peace;
And had all things with heart's content.
That might his joys increase.
Amongst those things that nature gave,
Three daughters fair had he.
So princely seeming beautiful,
As fairer could not be.
So on a time it pleased the king
A question thus to move,
Which of his daughters to his grace
Could show the dearest love:
For to my age you bring content,
Quoth he, then let me hear.
Which of you three in plighted troth
The kindest will appear.
To whom the eldest thus began:
Dear father, mind, quoth she.
Before your face, to do you good,
My blood shall renderM be:
And for your sake my bleeding heart
Shall here be cut in twain,
Ere that I see your reverend age .
The smallest grief sustain.
And so will I, the second said,
Dear father, for your sake;
37
— 290 —
The worst of all extremities
ril gently undertake:
And serve your highness night and day
With diligence and love;
That sweet content and quietness
Discomforts may remove.
•
In doing so, you glad my soul,
The aged king reply'd:
But what sayst thou, my youngest girl,
How is thy love ally'd?
My love, quoth young Cordelia then,
Which to your grace I owe.
Shall be the duty of a child,
And that is all Fll show.
And wilt thou show no more, quoth he,
Than doth thy duty bind?
I well perceive thy love is small,
When as no more I find.
Henceforth I banish thee my court,
Thou art no child of mine;
Nor any part of this my realm
By favour shall be thine.
Thy elder sisters' loves are more
Than Avell I can demand,
To whom I equally bestow
My kingdom and my land,
My pompal state and all my goods,
That lovingly I may
With those thy sisters be maintained
Until my dying day.
Thus flattering speeches won renown.
By these two sisters here;
The third had causeless banishment.
Yet was her love more dear:
— 291 —
For poor Cordelia patiently
Went wandering up and down,
Unhelp'd, unpity'd, gentle maid,
Through many an English town.
Until at last in famous France
She gentler fortunes found;
Though poor and bare, yet she was deem'd
The fairest on the ground:
Where ^hen the king her virtues heard,
And this fair lady seen,
With full consent of all his court.
He made his wife and queen.
Her father King Leir this while
With his two daughters staid :
Forgetful of their promised loves,
Full soon the same decayM;
And living in Queen Ragan's court,
The eldest of the twain,
She took from him his chiefest means,
And most of all his train.
For whereas twenty men were wont
To wait with bended knee:
She gave allowance but to ten,
And after scarce to three;
Nay, one she thought too much for him;
So took she all away,
In hope that in her court, good king,
He would no longer stay.
Am I rewarded thus, quoth he,
In giving all I have
Unto my children, and to beg
For what I lately gave?
ru go unto my Gonorell:
My second child, I know,
— 292 —
Will be more kind and pitiful,
And will relieve my woe.
Full fast he hies then to her court;
Where when she heard his moan
ReturnM him answer, That she griev'd,
That all his means were gone:
But no way could relieve his wants;
Yet if that he would stay
Within her kitchen, he should have
What scullions gave away.
When he had heard, with hitter tears,
He made his answer then;
In what I did let me be made
Example to all men.
I will return again, quoth he,
Unto my Ragan's court;
She will not use me thus, I hope,
But in a kinder sort.
Where when he came, she gave command
To drive him thence away:
When he was well within her court,
She said, he would not stay.
Then back again to Gonorell
The woeful king did hie,
That in her kitchen he might have
What scullion boys set by.
But there of that he was deny'd
Which she had promised late:
For once refusing, he should not
Come after to her gate.
Thus twixt his daughters, for relief
He wanderM up and down;
Being glad to feed on beggars' food,
That lately wore a crown.
— 293 - .
And calling to remembrance then
His youngest daughter's words,
That said the duty of a child
Was all that love affords:
But doubting to repair to her
Whom he had banish'd so,
Grew frantic mad; for in his mind
He bore the wounds of woe:
Which made him rend his milk white locks,
And tresses from his liead,
And all with blood bestain his cheeks,
With age and honour spread.
To hills and woods and watry founts
He made his hourly moan,
Till hills and woods and senseless things
Did seem to sigh and groan.
Even thus possest with discontents,
He passed o'er to France,
In hopes from fair Cordelia there,
To find some gentler chance;
Most virtuous dame! which when she heard
Of this her father's grief.
As duty bound, she quickly sent
Him comfort and relief:
And by a train of noble peers,
In brave and gallant sort,
She gave in charge he should be brought
To Aganippus' court;
Whose royal king, with noblfr mind
So freely gave consent.
To muster up his knights at arms,
To fame and courage bent.
And so to England came with speed,
To repossess King Leir,
And drive his daughters from their thrones
By his Cordelia dear.
Where she, true-hearted noble queen,
Was in the battle slain;
Yet he good King, in his old days,
Possest his crown again.
But when he heard Cordelia's death,
Who died indeed for love
Of her dear father, in whose cause
She did this battle move,
He swooning fell upon her breast.
From whence he never parted;
But on her bosom left his life,
That was so truly hearted.
The lords and nobles when they saw
The end of these events,
The other sisters nnto death
They doomed by consents;
And being dead their crowns they left
Unto the next of kin:
Thus have you seen the fall of pride,
And disobedient sin.
26. King John and the Abbot of Canterbury.
An ancient story Til tell you anon
Of a notable prince that was called King John ;
And he ruled England with main and with might,
For he did great wrong, and maintain'd little right.
And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry,
Concerning the Abbot at Canterbury;
How for his house-keeping and high renown
They rode post for him to fair London town.
— 295 -
A hundred men, the king did hear say,
The abbot kept in his house every day;
And fifty gold chains *), without any doubt,
In velvet coats waited the abbot about.
How now, father abbot, I hear it of thee,
Thou keepest a far better house than me,
And for thy house-keeping and great renown,
I fear thou workst treason against my crown.
My liege, quo' the abbot, I would it were known,
I never spend nothing but what is my own;
And I trust, your Grace will do me no dear
For spending of my own true gotten gear.
Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault is so high,
And now for the same thou needs must die ;
For except thou canst answer me questions three,
Thy head shall be smitten from thy body.
And first, quo'- the king, when I'm in this stead,
With my crown of gold so fair on my head.
Among all my liege- men so noble of birth ,
Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.
Secondly tell me, without any doubt,
How soon I may ride the whole world about.
And at the third question thou must not shrink,
But tell me here truly what I do think.
0, these are hard questions for my shallow wit,
Nor I cannot answer your Grace as yet:
But if you will give me but three weeks' space,
I'll do my endeavour to answer your Grace.
*) Gold chainsrrvassals decorated with gold chains.
— 296 — "
Now -three weeks' space to thee will I give,
And that is the longest time thou hast to live;
For if thou dost not answer my questions three ,
Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to me.
Away rode the abbot all sad at that word,
And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford;
But never a doctor there was so wise,
That could with his learning an answer devise.
Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold.
And he met his shepherd a going to fold :
How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home;
What news do you bring us from good King John?
Sad news, sad news, shepherd, I must give,
That I have but three days more to live.
For if I do not answer him questions three,
My head will be smitten from my body.
The first is to tell him there in his stead ,
With his crown of gold so fair on hi's head.
Among all his liege- men, so noble of birth,
To within one penny of what he is worth.
The second, to tell him without any doubt.
How soon he may ride this world about;
And at the third question I must not shrink,
But tell him there truly what he does think.
Now cheer up, sir abbot ; did you never hear yet,
That a fool he may learn a wise man wit?
Lend me horse, and serving men, and your apparel,
And I'll ride to London to answer your quarrel.
Nay, frown not, if it hath been told unto me,
I am like your lordship, as ever may be;
And if you will but lend me your gown,
There is none shall know us at fair London town.
— 297 —
Now horses and serving-meu thou shall have,
With sumptuous array most gallant and brave;
With crosier, and mitre, and rochet, and cope,
Fit to appear 'fore our father the pope.
Now welcome, sir abbot, the king he did say,
'Tis well thou'rt come back to keep thy day;
For if thou canst answer my questions three,
Thy life and thy living both saved shall be.
And first, when thou seestme here in this stead,
With my crown of gold so fair on my head ,
Among all my liege-men so noble of birth,
Tell me to one penny what I am worth.
For thirty pence our Saviour was sold
Among the false Jews, as I have been told;
And twenty-nine is the worth of thee ,
For I think thou art one penny worser than he.
The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,
I did not think I had been worth so little ! —
Now secondly tell me, without any doubt ,
How soon I may ride this whole world about.
You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,
Until the next morning he riseth again ;
And then your Grace need not make any doubt,
But in twenty- four hours you'll ride it about.
The king he laughed, and swore by St. John ,
I did not think, it could be gone*) so soon ! —
Now from the third question thou must not shrink,
But tell me here truly what I do think.
Yea, that shall I do, and make your Grace merry:
You think I'm the abbot of Canterbury; •
*) Gone z:z gone about.
— 29B -~
But I'm his poor shepherd, as plain you may see,
That am come to heg pardon for him and for me.
The Idng he laughed, and swore by the mass:
I'll make thee lord abbot this day in his place! ■—
Nuvv nay, my liege, bo not in such speed,
For alack! I can neither write nor read.
Four nobles a week then I will give thee.
For this merry jest thou hast shown unto me;
And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home.
Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John.
(Percy's Reliques)
\^
27. Chevy- Chase.
God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all;
A woful hunting once there did
In Chevy-Chase befall.
To drive the deer with hound and
horn,
Earl Percy took his way ;
The child may rue that is unborn,
The hunting of that day.
The stout Earl of Northumberland
A vow to. God did make,
His pleasure in the Scottish woods
Three summer's day to take;
The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chase
To kill and bear away.
These tidings toEarl Douglas came.
In Scotland where he lay:
Who sent Earl Percy present word,
He would prevent his sport.
The English Earl, not fearing that,
Did to the woods resort.
With fifteen hundred bow-men
bold,
All chosen men of might,
Who knew full well in time of need
To aim their shafts aright.
The gallant grey hounds swiftly ran,
To chase the fallow deer :
On Monday they began to hunt,
Ere daylight did appear;
And longbefore high noon they had
An hundred fat bucks slain;
Then ha vingdined the drovers went
To rouse the deer again.
Thebow- men muster'd on the hills,
Well able to endure ;
Their backsides all , with special
care
That day were guarded sure.
— 299
The hounds ran swiftly through
the woods
The nimble deer to take,
That with their cries the hills and
dales
An echo shrill did make.
Lord Percy to the quarry went,
To view the slaughter'd deer;
Quoth he, Earl Douglas promised
This day to meet me here :
But if I thoughthe would not come.
No longer would I stay.
With that a brave young gentleman
Thus to the Earl did say:
Lo, yonder doethEarlDouglas come-
His men in armour bright;
Full twenty hundred Scottish spears
All marching in our sight ;
All men of pleasant Tivydale,
Fast by the river Tweed :
0 cease your sports. Earl Percy
said,
And take your bows with speed:
And now with me , my countrymen ,
Your courage forth advance;
For there was never champion yet.
In Scotland, or In France,
That ever did on horseback come,
But if my hap it were,
1 durst encounter man for man.
With him to break a spear.
Earl Douglas on his milk-white
steed,
Most like a baron bold,
Rode foremost of his company,
Whose armour shone like gold.
Show me, said he, whose men
you be
That hunt so boldly here,
That,withoutmy consent, do chase,
And kill my fallow-deer.
The first man that did answer
make.
Was noble Percy he;
Who said. We list not to declare,
Nor show whose men we be :
Yet we will spend our dearest blood
Thy chiefest harts to slay.
Then Douglas swore a solera oath.
And thus in rage did say.
Ere thus I will outbraved be,
One of us two shall die:
I know thee well, an earl thou art;
Lord Percy, so am I.
But trust me, Percy, pity it were,
And great offence to kill
Any of these our guiltless men.
For they have done no ill.
Let thou and I the- battle try,
And set our men aside.
Accurst be he. Earl Percy said.
By whom this is denied.
Then stepped a gallant squire forth ,
Witherington was his name,
Who said, I would not have it told
To Henry our king for shame,
— 300
That e'er my captain fought on
foot,
And I stood looking on ;
You be two earls, said Wither-
ington,
And I a squire alone ;
I'll do the best that do I may,
While I have power to stand:
While I have power to wield my
sword,
I'll fight with heart and hand.
Our English archers bent their bows
Their heartswere goodand true;
At the first flight of arrows sent,
Full fourscore Scots they slew.
They closed full fast on every side,
No slackness there was found ;
And many a gallant gentleman
Lay gasping on the ground.
0 dear! it was a grief to see,
And likewise for to hear,
The cries of men lying in their gore,
And scattered here and there.
This fight did last from break of
day
Till setting of the sun ;
For when they rang the evening-
bell,
The battle scarce was done.
With stout Earl Percy there was
slain
Sir John of Egerton,
Sir Robert Katcliff, and Sir John,
Sir James that bold baron:
And with Sir George and stout Sir
James,
Both knights of good accouut,
Good Sir Ralph Raby there was
slain
Whose prowess did surmount.
For Witherington needs must I
wail,
As one in doleful dumps;
For when his legs were smitten off,
He fought upon his stumps.
Of fifteen hundred Englishmen ,
Went home but fifty three;
The rest was slain in Chevy-Chase,
Under the greenwood tree.
Next day did many widows come.
Their husbands to bewail;
They washed their wounds in
brinish tears,
But all would not prevail.
Their bodies bathed in purple gore,
They bare with them away:
They kissed them dead a thousand
times,
Ere they were clad in clay.
301 -
God save our king, and bless this
'*' land
With plenty, joy, and peace ;
And grant henceforth, that foul
debate
'Twixt noblemen may "cease.
28. The divertiog History of John Gilpin,
showing that he went farther than he intended, and came safe home again.
John Gilpin was a citizen
Of credit and renown,
A train-band captain eke was he
Of famous London town.
John Gilpin's spouse said to her
dear,
Though wedded we have been
These twice ten tedious years, yet
we
No holiday have seen.
To-morrow is our wedding-day,
And we will then repair
Unto the Bell at Edmonton
All in a chaise and pair.
My sister and my sister's child,
Myself and children three,
Will fill the chaise: so you must
ride
On horseback after we.
He soon replied, I do admire
Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.
I am a linen-draper bold.
As all the world doth know,
And my good friend, the calendrer,
Will lend his horse to go.
•
Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, That's well
said;
And for that wine is dear.
We will be furnished with our own ,
Which is both bright and clear.
John Gilpin kissed his loving wife,
O'erjoyed was he to find
That, though on pleasure she was
bent,
She had a frugal mind.
The morning came, the chaise was
brought,
But yet was not allowed
To drive up to the door, lest all
Should say that he was proud.
So three doors off the chaise was
stayed.
Where they did all get in;
Six precious souls, and all agog
To dash through thick and thin.
Smack went the whip, round went
the wheels,
Were never folk so glad ;
~- 302
The stones did rattle underneath,
As if Cheapside were mad.
John Gilpin at his horse's side
Seized fast the flowing mane,
And up he got, in haste to ride,
But soon came down again;
Per saddle-tree scarce reached
had he,
His journey to begin,
When, turning round his head,
he saw
Three customers come in.
So down he came; for loss of time,
Although it grieved him sore,
Yet loss of pence, full well he
knew,
Would trouble him much more.
'Twas long before the customers
Were suited to their mind,
When Betty screaming came down
stairs,
«The wine is left behind! »
Good lack! quoth he — yet bring
it me,
My leathern belt likewise,
In which I bear my trusty sword,
When I do exercise.
Now Mrs. Gilpin (careful soul!)
Had two stone -bottles found,
To hold the liquor that she loved,
And keep it safe and sound.
Each bottle had a curling ear.
Through which the belt he drew,
And hung a bottle on each side
To make his balance true.
Then over all that he might be
Equipped from top to toe,
His long red cloak, well brush-
ed and neat,
He manfully did throw.
Now see him mounted once again
Upon his nimble steed.
Full slowly pacing o'er the stones,
With caution and good heed.
But finding soon a smoother road
Beneath his well- shod feet,
The snorting beast began to trot.
Which galled him in his seat.
So, fair and softly, John, he cried.
But John he cried in vain;
That trot became a gallop soon,
In spite of curb and rein.
So stooping down , as needs he must
Who cannot sit upright.
He grasped the mane with both his
hands,
And eke with all his might.
His horse, who never in that sort
Had handled been before,
What thing upon his back had got
Did wonder more and more.
Away went Gilpin, neck or' nought;
Away went hat and wig;
He little dreamt, when he set out,
Of running such a rig.
- 303 —
The wind did blow, the cloak did
fly,
Like streamer long and gay,
Till, loop and button failing both,
At last it flew away.
Then might all people well discern
The bottles he had slung;
A bottle swinging at each side,
As hath been said or sung.
The dogs did bark, the children
screamed,
Up flew the windows all;
And every soul cried out, Well
done!
As loud as he could bawl.
Away went Gilpin — who but he?
His fame soon spread around,
He carries weight! he rides a race!
'Tis for a thousand pound!
And still, as fast as he drew near,
'Twas wonderful to view
How in a trice the turnpike- men
Their gates wide open threw.
And now, as he went bowing down
His reeking head full low,
The bottles twain behind his back
Were shattered at a blow.
Down ran the wine into the road,
Most piteous to be seen,
Which made his horse's flanks to
smoke,
As they had basted been. •
But still he seemed to carry weight,
With leathern girdle braced;
For all might see the bottle-necks
Still dangling at his waist.
Thus all through merry Islington
These gambols he did play.
Until he came unto the Wash
At Edmonton so gay.
And there he threw the Wash about
On hoth sides of the way,
Just like unto a trundling mop,
Or a wild goose at play.
At Edmonton his loving wife
From the balcony spied
Her tender husband, wondering
much
To see how he did ride.
Stop, stop, John Gilpin! — Here's
the house —
They all aloud did cry ;
The dinner waits, and we are
tired:
Said Gilpin — So am I!
But yet his horse was not a whit
Inclined to tarry there;
For why? — his owner had a house
Full ten miles off at Ware.
So like an arrow swift he flew.
Shot by an archer strong;
So did he fly — which brings me to
The middle of my song.
Away went Gilpin out of breath,
And sore against his will,
S04 —
Till at his friend the calendrer's | My head is twice as big as yours,
His horse at last stood still. They therefore needs must fit.
The calendrer, amazed to see
His neighbour in such trim,
Laiddownhispipe, flew to the gate,
And thus accosted him:
What news? what news? your
tidings tell;
Tell me you must and shall —
Say, why bare-headed you are
come?
Or why you come at all?
Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,
And loved a timely joke;
And thus unto the calendrer
In merry guise he spoke:
I came because your horse would
come;
And if I well forebode,
My hat and wig will soon be here,
They are upon the road.
The calendrer, right glad to find
His friend in merry pin,
Returned him not a single word.
But to the house went in;
When straight he came with hat
and wig;
A wig that flowed behind,
A hat not much the worse for wear,
Each comely in its kind.
He held them up, and in his turn
Thus showed his ready wit,
But let me scrape the dirt away,
That hangs upon your face;
And stop and eat, for well you may
Be in a hungry case.
Said John — it is my wedding-day.
And all the world would stare,
If wife should dine at Edmonton,
And I should dine at Ware.
So turning to his horse, he said,
I am in haste to dine ;
'Twas for your pleasure I came
here.
You shall go back for mine.
Ah luckless speech, and bootless
boast!
For which he paid full dear ;
For, while he spake, a braying ass
Did sing most loud and clear;
Whereat his horse did snort, as he
Had heard a lion roar,
And galloped off with all his might,
As he had done before.
Away went Gilpin, and away
Went Gilpin's hat and wig:
He lost them sooner than at first.
For why? — They were too big.
Now BIrs. Gilpin, when she saw
Her husband posting down
Into the country far away,
» She pulled out half a crown;
- 305 —
And thus unto the youth she said,
That drove them to the Bell,
This shall be yours, when you
bring back
My husband safe and well.
The youth did ride, and soon did
meet
John coming back amain ;
Whom in a. trice he tried to stop,
By catching at his rein :
But not performing what he meant,
And gladly would have done,
The frighted steed he frighted more ,
And made him faster run.
Away went Gilpin, and away
Went post-boy at his heels,
The post-boy's horse right glad to
miss
The lumbering of the wheels.
Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
With post-boy scampering in the
rear,
They raised the hue and cry: —
Stop thief! Stop thief! — a high-
wayman !
Not one of them was mute;
And all and each that passed that way
Did j oin in the pursuit.
And now the turnpike-gates again
Flew open in short space;
The toll men thinking as before
That Gilpin rode a race.
And so he did, and won it too,
For he got first to town;
Nor stopped till where he had
got up
. He did again get down.
Now let us sing, long live the king,
And Gilpin, long live he;
And when he next doth ride abroad ,
May I be there to see!
29. The Cataract of Lodore.
Described in rhymes for the Dursery.
«How does the Water
Come down at Lodore? »
My little boy ask'd me
Thus, once on a time;
And moreover he task'd me
To tell him in rhyme.
Anon at the word,
S9
— 306 —
There first came one daughter,
And then came another,
To second and third
The request of their brother,
And to hear how the water
Comes down at Lodore,
With its rush and its roar,
As many a time
They had seen it before.
So I told them in rhyme,
For of rhymes I had store:
And 'twas in my vocation
For their recreation
That so I should sing;
Because I was Laureate
To them and the King.
From its sources which well
In the Tarn on the fell ;
From its fountains
In the mountains,
Its rills and its gills;
Through moss and through brake,
It runs and it creeps
For a while, till it sleeps
In its own little Lake.
And thence at departing,
Awakening and starting,
It runs through the reeds
And away it proceeds,
Through meadow and glade,
In sun and in shade,
And through the wood-shelter,
Among crags in its flurry,
Helter-skelter,
Hurry -skurry.
Here it comes sparkling,
And there it lies darkling;
— 307 —
Now smoaking and frothing
It's tumult and wrath in,
Till in this rapid race
On which it is bent,
" It reaches the place
Of its steep descent.
The Cataract strong
Then plunges along,
Striking and raging
As if a war waging
Its caverns and rocks among:
Rising and leaping,
Sinking and creeping,
Swelling and sweeping,
Showering and springing,
Flying and flinging,
Writhing and ringing,
Eddying and whisking,
Spouting and frisking.
Turning and twisting,
Around and around
With endless rebound!
Smiting and fighting,
A sight to delight in;
Confounding, astounding,
Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound.
Collecting, projecting.
Receding and speeding.
And shocking and rocking,
And darting and parting,
And threading and spreading,
And whizzing and hissing.
And dripping and skipping,
And hitting and splitting,
And shining and twining,
And rattling, and battling,
~ 308 —
And shaking and quaking,
And pouring and roaring,
And waving and raving,
And tossing and crossing, .
And flowing and going,
And running and stunning,
And foaming and roaming,
And dinning and spinning,
And dropping and hopping,
And working and jerking,
And guggling and struggling,
And heaving and cleaving,
And moaning and groaning;
And glittering and frittering.
And gathering and feathering,
And whitening and brightening,
And quivering and shivering.
And hurrying and skurrying.
And thundering and floundering;
Dividing and gliding and sliding,
And falling and brawling and sprawling,
And driving and riving and striving,
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling.
And sounding and bounding and rounding.
And bubbling and troubling and doubling,
And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling,
And clattering and battering and shattering.
Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting,
Delaying and straying and playing and spraying.
Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing.
Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling,
And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming.
And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing.
And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping,
And curling and whirling and purling and twirling,
m
— 309 —
And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping,
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing;
And so never ending, but always descending,
Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blending,
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar,
And this way the Water comes down at Lodore.
(Southey).
CIOBAPL.
CIOBAPL
K-L HEPBLIMX 10 CTPAHHIliAM'L.
Elementary Sentences.
There isaknockjCTyiaTCH.
at the door, btj /^Bepb.
somebody, h'Skto.
Knocks , CTyqHTca,
go, noH/^nxe,
and, H.
see, nocMOTpHTe.
who it is, RTO 9T0.
open, OTBopuxe.
the door. ;^Bepb.
It is Mr. B.,5Tor. B.
Good morning to you, me-
jiaio BsiWh fl;o6paro yxpa.
I am very glad, h oienb
paA'B.
to seeyou, BacTbBHA'bTb.
I am very happy, a oqenb
CHaCTJTHBt.
I have not seen you this
age, yate j^tJibiS Bimi,
KaKt a Bact ne BH/jjaJCb.
You are quite a stranger,
Bbi TOHHO lyatoS lejio-
BtKt,
Have you breakfasted ?
nosaBTpaKaJiH jih Bh ?
not yet, ni-vb eine.
I.
pray, nostajiyficTa.
be seated, cajHTecb.
do,pray, noffiajryScTa npo-
my Bact.
sit down, capinrecb.
Please to sit down, nosca-
jiyfiCTa caAiirecb.
give, noAauxe,
a chair, cxyjrb.
to Mr. B., r-ny B.
fetch, npuHeciixe.
a seat, ctyjiti.
will you stay, ne yroAHO
JIH BaMTj ocxaxbca.
and take dinner with us,
n nooGlJAEtTb cb naMH.
I cannot stay, a ne Mory
ocxaxbca.
1 only came in to ask how
you did, H samejii. xo-ib-
KO RJia xoroHxoSt enpo-
ciixb KaK-b Bbi noffiH-
Baexe.
I must go, H ftOJiffieHt
II.
you come just in time,
Bbi npHQiJiii coBepmeH-
HO BO BpeUH.
oxnpaBHTbca.'
You are in a great hurry,
Bbi oieHb xopoiiHxecb.
I haveagood many things
to do,yMeHa ohchb mho-
ro 3;'fiji'b.
Surely you can stay a lit-
tle longer, Bbi kohciho
Moatexe ocxaxbca no-
/^OJibuie.
I have many places to call
at, eine MHoro Mtcxt,
Ky^a H ;^OJa:eH'I^ safixn.
I will stay, a ocTanycb. -
longer, pjOJil&e.
another time,3;pyro8 pasi..
I thank you, QjiaroAapio
Bacb.
for your visit, sa Baui-b
BHSHXt.
I hope, a HaR'feiocb,
I shall sceyou soon again,
"3X0 aBCKoptonaxbyBH-
ffly Bacb,
You will breakfast, Bh
nosaBxpaKaexe.
breakfast, saBxpauT, (yx-
40
314 —
penifi Eo«e hjih laS).
is ready, (ecxb) totobtj.
come, npH/i,nTe.
to breakfast, saBipaKaTb.
Doyou drink tea or coflfee?
Hero Bbi Htejaexe, naio
HJIH K0(te?
Would you prefer choco-
late?, nexoTHxe jih Jiyi-
me meKOJiu;];y?
I prefer, h npe;^aoHHTaio,
coffee, Koa>e.
What shall I offer you?,
HTO H Mory ^pe/^JIoatHTI>
BaMTj.
What time do we dine?,
Bt itaKoe speBii 5y;^eM'b
Mbi oStflaib?
to-day, ceroAHa.
we are to dine, mw roji-
HSHbi o6l3/i;aTb.
at four o'clock, btj ne-
Tbipe Haca.
dinner, o6'iijs,'b,
will not be, iie 6y/i;eT'b.
before five o'clock, paa'fee
nsTH MacoBt.
Is any one coming, 6y-
j^BTh jia KTO im^YAh.
to, KTd.
besides, CBepxt, icpoM'B.
What shall I help you to?,
HTO ji Mory BaMt npe^-
JIOJKHTb?
would you like?, ne yrofl-
HO JIH BaBl-L?
to taste, nonpoSoBaTb.
the soup, cynij.
some soup, cyny.
1 will trouble you for, n
nonpomy y Baci..
a little, HeMHoro.
beef, ^0Ba;^UHa.
It looks very nice, na
BHflTj OHa OlOHb XOpO-
uia.
here are, bottj.
rolls, 6yjiKH.
toast, no/i.HtapeHbm xji'b6'h.
Which do you like best?,
HTO Bbi Sojibiue jiioSuTe?
I will take, a Bosbsiy.
some toast, (a'feCKOJibKo)
noAatapeHaro xjitSa.
How do you like?, laaii'b
BaWB HpaBIITCH?
is as you like it?, BaM-B
no Bicycy.
strong, Eptniciii.
enough, ^OBOJibHO.
III.
own, co6cTBenHbiii.
family, ceMeficxBO.
Do you expect?, oKHAae-
Te JIH Bbi?
company, tocth.
the weather, noroAa.
iine, npeKpacHbiu.
has promised, oStmaJica.
Have you given orders
for?, BaitasajiH jiii Bm?
What have you ordered
for dinner?, hto Bm sa-
KasajiH icb oS^Ay?
What haye we got?, hto
y Hacb OyACTTj?
Have you sent?, nociajiii
JIH Bbl?
IV.
What part, KaKaa nacxb.
well done, AOBOJibHO JKa-
peHbiS.
under done, He Aowape-
HblM.
I'ather, citopte; neMHoro.
if you please, ecjiu BasiTj
yroAHo; noHiaJiyScTa.
Have 1 helped you as you
like?, AOBOJibHbi jiu Bu
TtMlj HTO fl BaMTb UO-
AajiTj?
It, OHO 9T0.
Will you let me?, ne no-
SBOJIMTe JH Bbl MHt?
it is rather, OHt (ecTb)
CKopte.
too, CJIHUIKOMt.
excellent, npeBocxoAHbifl.
sweet, cjiaAKifi.
not, He.
clear, hhcthS.
if, ecjiii.
1 beg you will say so, to
iipomy UK'S CKasaib
0613 STOMl..
for any fish, sa pbi6o3.
Shall we have?, GyffCTTb
JIH y Hact?
I could not, H He Mort.
to get, AOCTaTb.
there was not, ae Smjio.
in the market, naphiKKt.
I fear, a 6oH)Cb.
we shall have,HT0 y Hacb
GyACTt.
plain, npocToM.
We must manage as well
as we can, Haui, na-
AoGho ycTpoHTbCH no
BOSJlOiKHUCTH.
send you?, nocjiaTbBaM'b?
a piece, KycoKi).
of this pie, SToro nnpoat-
Haro.
of that pudding, toi:o ny-
AHiira.
Try them both, nonpo-
GySxe Toro h Apyiaro.
you had better, Bu 6h
jiyHiiie.
some of both, (neuHOro)
TOro H Apyraro.
a slice, (xoHeabKiii) Ky-
COKt.
mutton, SapaHHHa.'
Do you choose?, Htejiaexe
JTH Bw?
any of the fat, (HCMHOro)
ffiiipy.
You have no gravy, y
BaCb H-feTT. nO/^JIHBKH.
sauce, coycT>.
on, Ha.
plate, Tapejica.
I have plenty, y mchh
B^OBOJIt.
as much as Iwish for,
CTOJibKO CKOJibKO a me-
jtaio.
boiled, BapeHfiiH.
veal, TejiHTHHa.
delightful, OTjrHHHbiM.
remarkably, sajitiaxejib-
HO, OCOSCHHO.
Allow me, nosBOJBTe MHife.'
log of mutton, s&j^mtn
qeTBepTt 6apaHHHi>i.
full, nojHBiS.
tart, TopTT..
ham, BeTiuHa, oKopoKt.
delicious, npeBKycHwfi.
I will thank you for, a
. nonpomy y Baci>.
small, MajibiS.
just, TOJIbKO HTofi-b.
Give me, /ijafixe mh*.
but, TOJbKO.
bit, Kyco'^eK'B.
Have you carried in?,
npHuecjiH JiH Bm?
the tea things, HafiHwfi
npH6op'b.
every thing, Bce.
the table, ctoji..
Does the water boil?, kh-
nHTt JIH BOffia?
tea, Hafi.
quite, coBepuieHHO.
They are waiting for you,
— 315 —
1 am not very fond of fat,
fl He fiojrbuioS oxothhk'b
HO fflHpy.
of the lean, ;iio6obhhw.
V.
fine, npeKpacHbifi.
remarkably fine, npeoT-
JTHIHUS, CJiaBHblS,
meat, mhco.
vegetables, sejieHb.
here is, bott..
spinage, iiiniiHaT'b.
brocoli, 6poKOJb.
these are new potatoes,
9T0 CBlbataH itapTOoejib.
peas, ropoxT..
cauliflower, n;B*THaa Ka-
nycTa.
asparagus, cnapsa.
extremely, HpesBbiqaSno.
TI.
appetite, aneTHT-b.
nothing, HH^ero,
1 beg your pardon, h3bh-
HHTe.
1 have eaten very heartily,
H nopa;(KOM'b notj'b.
partridge, ityponaTKa.
cannot, ne MOiKeT-b.
hurt you,noBpe;^HTbBaM'b,
plum, CJIHBHblS.
give, ;^aBaTb.
wing, itpbuo.
leg, Hora.
YII.
Baci. mjs^jT'h.
1 am coming, a ceSqacb
6yffy.
1 will follow you, s nofi-
;^y 3a Baiuu.
You have not put, Bh He
nOCTaBHJIH.
a basin, nojocKaxejibHaH
Hamna,
cup, HaniKa.
we want, HaMii HyatHbi.
this, 3X0XT..
will suit your taste, 6y-
Rexii BuMT> no Bitycy.
tender, HtncHuft.
sweet, cja3;KiS.
do you eat?,*RHxeaH Bbi,
OXOXHHKT. JTH Bh /^0?
salad, cajaxT..
both — and, n — h.
carrots, MopKOBb,
turnips, ptnbi.
have you, ecxb jh y BacB.
bread, xjitS-b.
brown bread , qepHbiS
xjitGi),
white, 6l&Jiua.
home-made, ^OManiHsro
neienifl.
you have helped me, Bh
HajtOffiHJIH MHlb.
too, cjamKOMT,..
plentifully, /^ocxaxoHHO,
MHoro.
Will you please to cut it
in two, noatajryflcxa,
pasp'fiffibxe 9x0 nono-
jraMt.
half, nojroBnHa.
sufficient, 3;ocTaxoHHHfi.
for me, js^Jia neaa.
two cups more, eme ^b*
HaUIKH.
bring, npHHecnre.
another , ;i;pyroM, eu^e
OflUHT).
spoon, jrojKKa.
a saucer, 6;iH);i;eiK0.
you have not brought in,
Bbi He npnnecjin.
sugar tongs, mani^bi ]i,aa
caxapy.
- — 316 —
Do you take sugar?, nte-
Te JH Bbi c'b caxapoMi)?
cream, cjiiibkh.
milk, MOJiOKO.
will you fill up, p;oj[efiTe
noiKajiyftcTa.
my, MoM.
water, BORa.
black, qepHbifi.
or, HJIH.
Will you be so kind as.
He CyAexe jim Bh TaKi.
to pull the bell, no3BO-
HHTb BTj K0J0K0JIi.HHK1>.
ring the bell, noBBOHnre
BTj KOJIOKOJIbqHKI..
Make more toastj noa-
HsapbTC en^e H'fecKOJibKO
KycKOBi. xJiliSa
as soon as possible, KaK-B
MOHtHO cKOp-fee.
along with you, C'b eoSofi.
have I .put?, noJioffiuJi'b
jiH a?
green, sejieHbiH.
here, SAlfecb.
What will you take to
eat?, HTO Bbi atejiaexe
KyuiaTb?
cakes, kbkcb.
muffins, JienemKH.
bread and butter, xjitS-b
C'b MaCJIOMt.
YIII.
do you find?, aaxoftHTejiH
Bh?
so, TaKTj.
most excellent, npeoTJiHq-
Hblfi.
Where do you get it?, ot-
ityAa Bbi ero uojiyiae-
Te?
a friend, Apyrij, npiiJTCJib.
has procured mejAOCTajii.
MH'fi.
chest (of tea), amShk-b.
only, eAHHCTBeHHHfi.
way, cnocofi'b.
get some more, opnae-
CHTe eme.
not any more, BoJite He
HaAoSno.
had you rather not?, Bm
fiojffee He atejiaere?
much rather not, BOBce
He atejiaio.
I assure you, yBtpaio
Bacb.
good, xopomifi.
cheap, AenieBbiM.
1 will pour you out, h
HaabK) BaM-b.
only, TOJibKO.
I never take, a HaKO^;^a
He HbH).
more than three cups,
Oojilfee Tpexij HameK-b.
call, nosoBHTO.
the servant, cjiyra, cjy-
jKaHKa.
to take away, y6paTb.
To sup, yatHHaxb.
cheese, cbip-b.
takeyourbread and cheese
with us , OTKymafiTO
CTj HaMH.
much obliged, oieHboSa-
SaHTj.
but, HO.
I am afraid, s Soiocb.
IX.
late, nosAHO.
we shall, mm 6yAe3ii).
directly, cefiiacb.
cold, XOJOAHblfl.
a few, HtcKOJibKO.
oysters, ycTpHD,bi.
very much, OHeHb(MHoro).
which, 1X0, Hero,
first, cnepsa.
they are quite fresh, ohh
(cyx-b) coBepmeHHO .
CBtatH.
no, H'fex'b.
apple, hSjohhhS.
I have done extremely
well, a notJiTi ipesBH-
HaiiHO xopoQio.
Glass, pioMKa, cxaKani..
wine, BHHO.
with much pleasure, Cb
CoJIbUIUM-b yAOBOJlb-
cxBieMt.
claret, BopAOCKoe.
port wine, nopTBcfiHt.
sherry, xepect.
X.
what do you drink? qto
Bbi Dbexe?
table beer, ctojoboc uhbo.
porter, nopxept.
Scotch, UIoxjiaHACKifi.
ale, 9Jib.
fine, xopomitt.
ripe, nocntjibiS.
how long has it been?,
CKOJibRO BpeneHH ohti
Shjuj?
bottle, 6yxbiJiKa.
I think I never drank
tetter, mh* KantexcH,
qxo a HHKorAa He nms.'b
jiyqniaro.
317
XI.
Have you written?, aa-
nncajiu Jin Bti?
exercise, ynpaatHeaie,
ypoKT..
where, I7^'fe.
translation, nepeBO/<T>.
I am very sorry, Mulb
oieHb Htajib.
1 have forgot, a saebiJi-b.
to malce, cfttJiaTb.
I was prevented from
making it, a He Morij
ero cfttaaTfi.
I had a very bad tooth
ache, y mchs 6bijia
yatacHaa 3y6naa 60JII..
copy, nepenHcaHHOe Ha
HHCTO.
Where shall I sit?, r/i,1&
a flOJUKeHi} cHfttTb?
Take your seat, caflHTecb.
form, CKamefiKa.
higher up, noBbiuie.
Do not make such a noise,
He myMHTe xaicb.
spell, CKJiaAbiBaMre.
word, cjioBO.
again, onarb, CHOBa.
do notsl^ake, ne TpacHxe.
I cannot write, a ne
Mory nncaTTj.
unless you sit still, Kor/^a
Bh He CHRHTe CMHpHO,
lend, OAOJi/KHxe.
knife, HoatHKii.
To know, 3HaTb.
what o'clock?, KOTopmS
lacB?
I don't know, a ne saaio.
exactly, tohho.
tell you, citasaxb Bain.,
to a quarter of an hour,
(CT. B'£pHOCTbio)3;o qex-
BepxH Haca.
badly written, /rypno mi-
OHcano.
It is scarcely legible,
9X0 Ct XpyftOMTj MOffi-
HO npo^iecxb.
You must write it bet-
ter, BaMb Ha;^o6HO Ha-
HHcaxb 3T0 jiyime.
or I shall expect you
to make it over again,
HHaqe Bami. npH;];oxca
nepeuHcaxb Bce CHOBa.
Have you learnt your vo-
cabulary?, yHHJIH Jlbl
Bh cjioBa?
repeat, nOEXopaxe.
dialogues, pasroBopw.
let mehear,CKaatHxe mh*.
XII.
I have lost, a noxepajrii.
my, Mofi.
pen, nepo.
one, o;i;hhi.. .
1 have none to spare, y
Mena HtxTb jiHiUHaro.
I want, a xoiy.
to use mine, ynoxpeCjiaxb
cBoe.
myself, (a) caMt.
I can't find, a ne iiory
HafixH.
copybook, xexpa^b.
where did you leave it,
rfllfe Bbi ee ocxaBEJin?
upon, Ha.
desk, KOHxopKa.
XIII.
Look at your watch, no-
CMOxnpxe KOxopbifiMacB
no BamnMTj (KapnaH-
HbiMT)) HacaMt.
It is not wound up, ohh
He saBeaeaw.
1 forgot, a nosafibiJi'b.
to wind up, saBOflHXb.
It does not go, ohh ne
irregular, nenpaBHjibHbifi.
verb, rjiarojixj.
the rules, npaBHJia.
lesson, ypoKt.
You hardly know a single
word, Bw He snaexe
noHXH HH OAHoro cjiOBa.
after school, noc.n't itJiacca.
I will have it said per-
fectly, nxoOt Bbi ero
3HajiH BHOJiHt yftOBJie-
XBOpHXejIbHO.'
without missing a single
word. He ouin6aacb hm
BTj ORHOMt CJIOB'fe,
under, noA'b.
other, Apyrofi.
book, KHHra.
I put it, a hojiokhjitj ee.
into, Bt (ctj bhhhx. na-
AeateMi>).
I laid it, a noJioJHHJiii ee =
shelf, noaica.
just by my seat, no^J!*
caMaro Moero M'fecxa.
Have you got your slate?,
y BacTi jiH Bama (ac-
nH^Haa) ^ocKa?
Look for it, an^Hxe ee.
I have found, a Haiueji'B.
was, BbiJiij,
xo^axb.
It has stopped, ohh ocxa-
HOBHJIHCb.
well, xopomo.
it loses, ohh oxcxaioxi).
every day, KaffiAbiii flenb.
Mine gains as much, moh
yxo^axb cxojibKO ate,
main, rjiaBHbifi,
— 318 —
spring, npyjKHHa.
is broken, cjOMana.
it must be sent, HaJ^of)HO
hxtj nocjiaTi.,
watchmaker, nacoBofi
MaCTCpt.
are you up?^BH BCTaBiuH?
already, yjKe.
I have been up this hour,
a yjKe ni^JiMu HacB
BCTaBUlH.
you got up, Bw BCTajiH.
early, pano.
generally, ofibiKHOBeHHO.
to rise, BcxaBaTb.
It begins to grow very
late, CTaHOBHTca oienb
no3;i;HO.
almost, noHTH.
to go to bed, vLjuTvi cnaTb.
is not yet come, en^e He
npHuieji).
home, ;i;OMoft.
to hear, cjrMraaTb.
a knock, cxyKi..
very likely, oieHb Bt-
pOHTHO.
there he is, bott. OH-b.
I have not kept you ixp,
a. He 3a;^epffiaJI'b Bacb
JOHtnTbCfl cnaxb.
not at all, HucKOJibKO.
ten, jnecHTb.
Have you had a pleasant
walk, c;i;'16jiajiH jh Bu
npiaTHyio nporyjiKy?
Is over, nponijro.
to expect, oatHRaTb.
many more, eme mho-
rnxT..
the leaves, JincTbH-
to begin, HaHUHaxb.
to fall, na^aTb.
we have begun fires, mh
HanaJIH TOOHTb.
a fire, KaMHHHwS oroHb.
begins, HaHHHaeTt.
have you slept?, cnaaa
JIH Bh?
I never woke, a hh pasy
He npocbinajica.
all night, bcio HO^b.
I could not sleep a wink,
a He Mor-b cnaxb hh oj!,-
HOfi MHHyTbl.
I never closed my eyes,
a rjra3T> He CMbiKaji..
the whole night, i(16jiyio
HOHb.
what, KaKoM.
What do you think of
taking a short walk?,
XIT.
very much so, (oMenb
MHoro Taitt) oieHb
npiaTHyK).
charming, npejiecTHHft.
evening, BenepT..
Are you not tired?. He
ycTajiH Jia Bu?
sopha, co*a.
rest yourself, OT;^oxHHTe.
a little, He MHoro.
hot, ffiapKJM.
summer, JilfeTO.
we have had no, y nacb
He 6bi.T0.
this yeariUbiH^mHia roini..
we have had a fire, mm
TOnHJIH.
even, Raate.
month, M'fecai^'b.
July, iiojib.
a great deal, MHOro.
XT.
comfortable, npiaTHbiS,
KOM*opTa6ejbHbiii.
The days are very much
shortened, rhh cxajiH
ropasao Kopone.
long, ROJiritt.
we cannot see, Hmero ne
BHJ^aTb.
it is hardly day light,
epa CBtxJio.
KaKt Bm jjyMaexe, He
CA'5bJiaxb jiHHaM'b MajieHb-
Kyio nporyjiKy?
time, BpeMa.
They won't breakfast this
hour, saBxpaKaxb 6y-
j^jTb He ■ pante KaKt
lepest Hacb.
We have full an hour
before us, y nacb en;e
i;'fejibifi lacb BnepejiH.
the walk, nporyjiKa.
hay, cfeHO.
they have begun, naqajiH.
the harvest, ataxBa.
The crop will be good,
ypoataS eyj^ext xo-
pom-b.
There is wheat cut down
already, yate noatnajiH
nraeHHi(y.
the corn will all be hou-
sed, Becb xjite-b 6y-
ji^GTh ySpan-b nojs.'h
Kpbunicy.
next week, na 6yp;ynnefi
HCflifejI'fe,
no wonder, ne jjiyiBH-
XejIbHO.
warm, xenjiHfi.
the dog days, KaHHKyjM.
in the afternoon, nono-
JiyRHH.
It is soon dark, pano
xeMHtexTj.
winter, SHMa.
draws near, npn6jiH-
maexca.
the shortest, KpaxqaiimiS.
in three weeks, lepea-b
xpn He^^tJiH.
Christmas, poffi^ecTBO.
319
1 wish it were, h 6h }Ke-
jiajH) htoStj oho 6uao.
to lengthen, cxaaoBHTbca
/^ojibiue.
is very low, e;^Ba ro-
pHTT..
poor, njioxofi.
put, KJiaAHTC.
turf, Top*i>.
wood, flpoBa.
stove, neqita.
you have not kept up,
Bbi He ^o/^p;epJKaJIH.
you have let go out, Bh
pajia racHyrb.
it must be lighted, Ha-
Ao6ho sajKCMb ero.
What are you looking
for?, Hero Bw nmHTe?
I am looking for, a Hmy.
tongs, u^Hni^u.
now, Tenepb.
put on, nojiOHtHTC.
two, ;;Ba.
three, Tpu.
a piece of wood, nojitao.
It will soon draw up,
CKopo paaropHTCfl.
New, HOBbifi.
What is it about?, o ^ewb
CHa?
A little of every thing,
060 BCCMT. no HCMHO-
HtKy.
entertaining, saHHMa-
TCJIbHblM.
yes, Aa.
for, ;^Jia.
young, noJiOAofi.
people, jTiOAH.
full of anecdotes, nanoji-
HBHa aHeK;i,0TaMH,
serious, cepiosHbiu.
sad, neiajibHbiS.
lively, BecejibiS.
laughable, CMtuinoS.
1 am sure, a yBtpeHt.
1 shall like it, oaa UK'S
nOHpaBHTCfl.
shall we read?, ho npo-
leCTb JIH HaMlb?
a page or two, HtcKOJibKO
cxpaHHi^i..
to spare, JianiHiS.
before I go out, ^epe;^'b
MOHMT. yxo;i;OM'b.
Are you going, coSapae-
Tecb JIH Bbi?
to walk, ryjiHTb.
this evening, cero;^HH
BeiepoM-b.
XYI.
if the weather continues
fine, ecjiH Syftext npo-
/i;oji!KaTbca xopouiaa
noro^a.
but, HO.
1 think, a nyMaio.
it will rain, nofiffCT'B
ftOJKAb.
dark, TeMHbiS.
cloudy, oSjiaHHbm.
the wind is too high,
Btxept CJUmiKOMTj CH-
jieHT).
which way?, ct KOxopoS
CXOpOHbl, KaKlj?
east, BOcxoHHbiS.
west, sana^HbiS.
I have taken exercise,
a cp.taaji'h Mou.ioH'B.
strong, Kp'fenKiS, CHjibHbiS.
well, 3;^opoBbli^.
I was. just wishing, a
xojibKO 1x0 Htejiaji'b.
to meet, BCxpixHXbca.
which way are you go-
ing?, BT. EOxopyio cxo-
pony Bbi H^exe?
something, Koe-Hxo, Ht-
HXO.
beautiful, npeKpacHbiM.
to show, noitasaxb.
come, noS3;eMxe.
for a long time, RaBHO.
where have yon been?,
rfti Bbi 6bi;iH?
I thought, a. /iiyMaJit, no-
aarajit.
you had left town, hxo
Bbi ocxaBHjiH ropoffXj.
you never go out, Bh
HHKor;i,a ne BbixoftHxe.
why, noiCMy.
oftener, nau^e.
to visit, HaB'feu^axb, no-
ctmaxb.
to walk, xo?;Hxb ntniKOMi).
to ride, t3/^HXb.
into the country, bt. p^e-
peBHK), 3a ^opo;^'b.
to sail, h;i,xh noAt na-
pycaMH.
to row, HftXH Ha rpe6ji1&,
up the river, BBepxi. no
p-feKt.
we went out shooting,
Mb! oxnpaBHJiHCb Ha
oxoxy.
yesterday, Biepa.
we are going to the
races, mm oxnpaBHMca
Ha cKaiKy.
on Wednesday, bt. cpe^y.
on Thursday, Bt lexBeprt.
balloon, BoasyuiHuS
map-b.
to ascend, noRbiMaxbca.
320 —
Connected Plirases.
CBfl3HbIfl $pa3bl.
The coldest, caiiaa xo-
jroftHaH.
country, cxpaHa.
world, Mipi., cb'£tij.
Greenland, FpeHjaHsiH.
the hottest, caMaHHtapKaa
the Burmese empire,
EnpiiaHCKaa njinepiji.
the largest, BejinqafiuiaK.
Europe, EBpona.
Russia, Poccia.
the smallest, HanMenBuiee.
kingdom, KopojreBCTBO.
Saxony, CaECOHiH.
the tallest, caMtm bbico-
Kopocibift.
people, Haposi". '
the Patagonians, IlaTa-
roHi];M.
the shortest, caMBifi na-
aopocjiHH.
the Laplanders, Jlan-
jiaHAii,Bi.
v the most polished, casibifi
oSpasoBaHHHH.
the most savage, caMbifi
RHKifi.
Africa, A*pHKa.
the most numerous, ca-
MBlfl MHOrOHHCJieHHBlfi.
Asia, Asia.
« the thinnest, caiioe CKy;^-
Hoe.
population, Hapo;i;oHace-
jteuie.
America, AnepuKa,
the Chinese, Knxafmw.
> the freest, cawaa cbo-
6oRHaa.
England, Anrjiia.
the most enslaved, ca-
Maa nopa6on^eHHaa.
GcDeral Remarks on the World.
OOmia noHaiifl o Mipi&.
Turkey, Typi];ia.
the oldest, ^peBHtfimaa.
China, KnTafi.
the newest, uoBlifimaa.
Brazil, the Brazils, Bpa-
Bu.nia.
the most mountainous,
caMaa ropncTas.
Norway, HopBeria.
the flattest, caiiaa njiocKaa.
the highest^ BticoiafiuiaH.
mountain, ropa.
Mount Blanc, MoufijiaHx.
Savoy, CaBoia.
France, $paHD,ia.
one of the Himalaya
#
mountains, osna hs-b
HMaJiaiiCKHXTj rop'B.
theMaranon, MapaubOH-b.
Amazon, AnasoucKaa.
South America, lOamaa
AiiepuKa.
Great Britein, BejiuKO-
SpuTania.
has, HMteTij.
the largest, caiiuM 6ojb-
nioii.
fleet of ships, KopaSe-ib-
HWU OJIOTTj.
Austria, ABCxpia.
armies, apaiu.
the most trading, caMaa
ToproBaa.
the United Slates, Coe-
p,HHeHHbie IllTaxbi.
• next to it, cjit^yioiAaa
nocji* nea.
remarkable, saMtiaxeJib-
Hblfl.
for its mines, cbohmh
py;i;nnKaMn.
gold, 30JI0X0, SOJIOXOS.
silver, cepeSpo, cepe-
6paHH2.
Arabia, Apasia.
is famed, cjraBHxca.
for horses, Joraa^ibMH.
Egypt, Ernnex-b.
Palestine, IlajiecTnHa.
were civilized, 6bijrH
npocRtmeHHbi.
when, Kor/i;a,
was all barbarous, 6Hja
Bca Heo6pa30BaHa.
now, HblHlfe.
rude, rpySbifi.
state.
, cocxoaHie.
Greece, Fpenia.
once, OAHa/K;^bI.
the mightiest, caaaa mo-
rymecxBeHuaa.
nation, HaD;ia, napop;'!..
the weakest, cjia6tiimaa.
the Italians, HxajiiaHUbi.
the Germans, H^mhh.
the most musical, caMbia
My3biKa.ibHbiS.
4 the least so, sctxTb
MeHbme.
he who speaks, toxt. kto
roBopuxT..
French, ipaui^yscKiS.
language, asuK-b.
can, MOHtex-B.
to travel, nyxeniecTBO-
BaxB*
all over, no Eceii.
English, aurjiiftcKift. - •
to trade, xoproBaxB npo-
MBimjiaxB.
all over the world, no
BCCJiy CBtxy.
321 -- %
Productions of various couutrics.
DpoHSBeAeHia pa3iibixi> cxpam..
V Anchovy, aHioycrb, cap-
;^eJIb.
from, HST..
the Mediterranean, Cpe-
j^mzeuaoe Mope.
the best, cauaa jry^imafl.
'brandy, BO^Ka.
is distilled, AHCTHJinpyeTCH.
butter, Macjio (KopoBbe).
is carried(to),B03HTCa(B'L).
Ireland, IIpjiaHj^ia.
Holland, FoJiJiaHAiji.
Holstein, rojiuTHHia.
carpet, KOBCpi..
of the best sort, caMaro
jiyijuaro copxa.
are manufactured, au-
^tJibiBaiOTca.
Persia, ITepcia.
cheese, cup-b.
one, OAKHTi.
kind, pofl-b, copxt.
called, HasbiBaeMwK.
Dutch, rojTJiaHRCKiS.
cocoa, KOKOCB.
grows, pacxeTTj.
the East Indies, Boc-
xo>iHaa Hn/i;iH.
the West Indies, 3ana;!i;-
naa IIhj[,\h.
Polynesia, IIojiHHeaia,
cork, npo6oHHaa Kopa.
Spain, Hcnania.
Italy, Hxajiia.
cotton, xjionqaxaa fiyiuara.
is brought, npHBOSHxca,
tree, /^epeno.
also, xaic^KC.
Cyprus, Rnnpt.
Smyrna, CiiupHa.
etc. (et caetera) n npo-
qee, H xaKTj Raji'fee..
> deal wood, ejioBoe flepeBo.
Sweden, IIlBei^ia.
diamond, ajiMast.
are found, Haxo;^ax'I).
India, Bocxo4Haa HH^ia,
fig, BHHHaa aroffa.
chiefly, npeiiMymecxBCH-
HO.
codfish, xpecKa.
Newfoundland, Htio-
CiayH/^jieHj^'b.
gin, p.aiHH'i., MOffiHteBeJio-
Baa BOflKa.
gloves, nepMaxKH.
are made, pitjaioxca.
Siberia, CnSnpb.
for the most part, no
6oJibmoM nacxH.
California, KajiH$opHia.
Australia, ABCxpa;iia.
ivory, cjiOHOBaa kocxb.
made of, Bbi/;'fejibiBaeMaa
031).
elephants' teeth, cjoho-
BWe KJIblKH.
is sent, npncBuaexca,
island, ocxpoBT>.
Ceylon, UeSnoH-b.
t lace, KpyjKeBO.
Belgium, Bejibria.
> muslin, MycjHHi,; KHcea.
Bengal, Benrajiia.
oil, Macjio CflepeBaHHOe).
! for eating, p^jim yno-
j xpeSjenia Bt nnmy.
is imported, npuBOSHxca.
orange, aneJibCHH-b.
Portugal, Ilopxyrajiia.
the Cape Verd islands,
ocxpoBa Sejienaro
Mbica.
Madeira, Ma;^epa.
the Azores, AaopcKie
ocxpoBa.
pearls, JKeMqyrx..
by diving, nocpeffCXBOiix.
Hbipania, BO^ojiasaMH.
plum, cjtHBa.
raisins, msiom'b.
are dried, cymaxca.
rice, pHCB.
is cultivated, pa3Bo;^Hxca.
rum, poMTi.
Jamaica, HMaiiKa.
silk worm, mejiKOBHH-
HbiM lepBb.
are bred,BOcaHXBiBaioxca.
the Caucasus, KaBKaa-B.
Mexico, MeitcHKa.
spices, npaHocxH.
such as, xaicoBbiH itaK*.
cinnamon, Kopni^a.
clove, rB03,!^HKa.
pepper, nepei^t.
the Moluccas, MojyKKCKie
ocxpoBa.
sponge, rySna.
sea, Mope.
near, 6jiH3b.
the Archipelago, ApxH-
ncjtarxi, -cidfi.
tallow, cajio.
timber, cxpoesofi Jtict.
tobacco, xaSaKii.
cigar, cnrapa.
Manilla, MaHaaaa.
Cuba, Ky6a.
Virginia, BuppHHia.
toy, nrpymKa.
mostly, no SojibuioS lac xh.
Germany, TepMaiiia.
N whalebone , khxobbiS
ycb.
out of, 1131).
bone, Kocxb.
whale, KHXT..
huge, orpoMHbia.
caught, JIOBHMbia.
off, npoxHBt, Ha Bucox*.
whisky, yncKH (poftt
borkh).
Scotland, IUoxJaH;^ia.
Sicily, Cai^Hjia.
Cape of Good Hope, mhcb
flo6pofl HaAeHt;\u.
wool, uiepcxb.
Saxony, CaKCOHia.
41
— 322
Of the difference aud distance of a mile in different countries.
0 pasjinqin ii BejunHH'fe mmjih bi, pa3jiuiHLiXT> CTpanax't.
Length, ii;jiHHa.
mile, MHJia.
the samejTOTT. caMHfi,OflH'
Haidfl.
different, pasjHiHbifi,
for, h6o, noTOiiy ito.
• much less, ropas/fo mchs-
me.
than, HeiKCJin.
Indian, HH^^encKiS.
Spanish, acnaHCKiS.
German, Himei^KiM.
. statute, ysaKOHCHKbiS.
consists of, COCTOHTT. EST..
feet, $yTBi.
yard , apAt , aHrjiiiicKitt
apmHHij.
to agree, corjacoBaxbca.
nearly, noqxH.
measure, Mtpa.
Turkish, TypeMKiS.
Italian, nxaJiiaHCKifi.
old, BpeBHiS.
Roman, pasiCKiS.
Russian, pyccKift,
more, 6ojibQie.
three quarters, Tpa Her- M
BepxH.
Polish, noJibCKiS.
about, OKOJio.
half, noaoBHHa.
Irish, HpjiaH/ijCKiS.
Arabian, apaBiScKiJt.
Swedish, mBeflCKifi.
Danish, ^axcidS.
Hungarian, BCHrepcKifi.
Varieties of the human species.
0 pa3JiniHLiXT> nopoftax-L po^a qejioBtqecKaro.
There are, ecTb,HMtioxcH.
grand, BejHKift, rjiaBKbitt.
variety, pa3JiBiMie,nopoffa.
the human race, nejioB'fi-
Hecitifi poftt.
- imperceptibly , nenpH-
JUtXHO.
• to approach, c5jiH>Kaxbca.
► are lost, xepaioxca.
in each other, oaho bi>
ApyroM-b.
first, BO nepBhixt.
" brownish, cjiyrjiOBaxufi.
western, sanaRHbiu.
coast, MopcKoS Geperij.
who, KOXOpBlfi.
according to our notions,
no HauiHMT. noHaxiHM'b.
of beauty, o Kpacoxlfe.
the handsomest, caubifi
KpaCHBblS.
< best formed, caMhiu cxpofi-
HblS.
next, noxoM-b.
yellow, HejixbiS.
V olive coloured, ojiuBKOBaro
i^B'fexa.
Monguls, MoHroJibi.
Calmucs, KajiMbiicH.
eastern, bocxohhbiS.
with whom, cb KOxopH-
MH, B-b tlHCji KOXO-
pblXlj.
may be reckoned, MoasHO
ciHxaxb.
the most northerly, ca-
MbiM cfeBepHbiS.
American, aMepuKaHCKiS.
tribe, njicMa.
having, HMtiomiS.
flat, njocKiM.
forehead, jio6ts.
little, Majibifi, MaJieHbKifi,
eye, rjiasx.,
wide, mnpoKifi.
mouth, pox-b.
thirdly, bx. xpexbux-b.
copper coloured, m^aho-
UiBtXHblM.
Indian, HHAtei^x,.
dispersed over, paactaH-
HbiS no
entire, Becb.
continent, MaxepaKXj.
broad, mupoitifi.
face, ;[Hi;e.
bristly, n\exuHOBaxbiS.
hair, bojiocu.
< stout, ffioffiia.
masculine , MyatecxaeH-
Hbl3.
. limb, HJieHTj.
fourthly, btj qexBepTMXi..
-jet black, HepHuS KaK-b
CMOJb.
negro, Herpt.
African, A*pHKaHe^'b.
various, pasHufl.
'Shade, oxx'taoKx..
'Woolly, mepcxHCXbiS.
thick, xojicxMfi.
lip, ry5a.
nose, HOCB.
prominent, BbiRaioiniaca.
chin, noA6opoAOKT>.
downy, nyniHCXHfi.
skin, Koata.
fifthly, B-b naxMX'b.
dark brown, xeMHoSy-
pbifi.
Australian, ABCxpajert-b.
the Pacific ocean, TaxiS
OKeaHTj.
large, GojitmoS.
feature, lepxa (jinqa).
strong, Kp'fenKifl,xBepAbi8.
nostrils, HoaflpH,
— 323
great, 6ojibmott.
men, JIlo;^H.
OflfspriDg, nOTOMKH.
common, oCii^ifl.
parent, poRHTeab.
among, Me!K;5y.
swarthy, ciayrjibiit.
delicate, h^jkhhS.
European, EBponeeu^.
brethren, 6paTi>ff.
descend ed,npoHcxOAflm)e.
from, OTTb.
ancestor, npaoTCi^'B.
One is often surprised,
MacTO y/^HBJI}IeIIJbCH.
when talking, pasroBa-
pHBafl.
boy, MajIl.HHK'b.
them, HXTi.
ignorant, HeBlj;i;ya;ifi.
thing, Bemb.
which, KOTOpwH.
ought to have known,
;^0JIfflHbI 6bMH6-I. 3HaTb.
as — as, TaKHte — KaKt.
their own, coficTBeHHwa
CBOH.
name, hmh.
I was questioning, n
cnparuHBajn..
« atleastjUOKpaSnefiMtp*.
eight years old, BoceMb
jitT'B ottj po;^y.
the other day, He;^aBH0.
who, KOTOpblS.
neither — nor, hh — hh,
knew, 3Hajn>.
number, hhcjio.
there are in the year,
(CKOJIbKO HMiCTCa) BTj
rofly.
he could not tell, ohi>
He Mort CKasaTb.
whether the sun rose,
BOCxo;^HT'b jiH coJiHi;e.
west, 3ana;i;'b.
equally, paBHO.
whether his pocket was
made, cRtjam. jih ero
KapMaHTj .
" of hemp, hbtj KOHonJia.
- flax, jieHT).
Useful knowledge.
DojieBHBia cBt^tHia.
certainly, KOHeiHO.
more important, saasH'be
he should make himself
better acquainted, oht.
6b3 AOJiateHT. 6b]jn. osaa-
KOMHTbca jiyime.
of this nature , xaworo
poAa.
that, -JTO,
sense, nyBCTBO.
seeing, sptHie.
hearing, cJiyxt.
smelling, o6oHflHie.
feeling, ocasanie.
tasting, BKycB.
season, BpcMH rofl;a.
spring, BecHa.
autumn, oceab.
winter, snua.
the earth, seMJia.
turns round, BpamaeTCa
(oKOJio och).
travels round the sun, 06-
pamaeTca okojio coJiHUia
is composed of, coctoht'b
land, seMJia.
is divided into, pasfl*-
jiaexca na.
six, mecTb,
Oceania, OKeania vmn
ABCTpajiasia.
cardinal points, CTpaHU
CBtTa.
north, cfeBep-b.
south, lorii.
metal, Mexajut.
coal, yrojtb.
are dug out, BHKanbi-
BaioTca.
indeed, utiicTBHTeJibHO,
B-b CaMOMT) atjit.
does notknow,He snaeT-b.
* flour of wheat, nmeHHH-
naa MyKa.
^ is mingled, M'femaiOT'b.
• yeast, Apoffi^H.
it makes, to c^lfejiaeTca.
> leavened, KsameHbiH.
light, JierKiS.
is used, ynOTpefijaroTt.
heavy, TaatejtwS.
unleavened, 6e3KBacHH3.
the passover cakes, na-
CXaJIbHbia nHpOJKHMH.
the Jews, JKham.
biscuit, cyxapb.
eaten, ynoxpefijiaeMbia bt.
nnmy.
sailor, Maxpoct.
barley bread of Scotland,
IIIoxjiaHACKiM flqiueH-
Hblfi XJltSl).
at an early age, b-b paH-
HeMTj B03pacT'b.
to be acquainted, 6uti,
SHaKOMblMt, SHaXB.
such — as, xaKia — koxo-
pbia.
use, ynoxpeCjieHie.
I have found, fl Hamejn..
frequently, ^acxo.
necessary, Heo6xoAHMbiS.
to explain, oStHCBaxb.
juice, coktj.
sugar cane, caxapHbiS
TpOCXHUKlj.
the Indies, IIhjar.
dried, cynieHwS.
^ shrub, KjcTb
' size, BejiHHHHa.
V currant bush, cMopOABH-
HWfi KyCTt.
• berry, nrofla.
growing, pacxymiS.
cacao, KaKao.
vanilla, BaHHJiB.
• malt, cojioRt.
« hop^ xmIbjiI).
' cider, KOJioHOBKa.
apple, fl6jroKO.
*- perry, rpymeBKa.
pear, rpyma.
grape, EHHOrpa^t.
. juniper berry, MOffiffiCBe-
jiOBaH flro;!;a.
theyhaTebeen,0HH6HJiH.
citron, n;HTpoH'b.
lemon, jihmohi.
cloves, rBOS^HKa.
•» nutmeg, MyniKaTHBiS
opixii.
^ kernel, sepno.
fruit, ujLOXh.
' peach, nepcHKi..
- bark, Kopa.
ginger, HRfiapB.
- rhubarb, peBeni..
— 324 ->
root, KopeHb.
plant, pacTtHie.
knowledge, nosHanie.
may be obtained MOffieTi.
GbiTb npio'6p*TaeMO.
if they keep their ears
and eyes open, ecjiH
6y;^yTi. CMOTp-fext h
cjiymaTt EHHsiaxejEbHO.
..now and then, HHor;^a.
to ask a question, ;^'£JIaTB
Bonpocb.
those who, t* KOTopwe.
wiser than themselves,
yMH'fee caMEXi).
father, OTeD;^.
who is very anxious, ko--
TOpbltt OHCHb 3a60THTCa
(O TOMt).
that his children should
obtain, ^jtoSi. ero r^th
npioOpifsTaJiH.
I heard him explain to
them, H cJiHniaji'B KaKii
OWb 06'BHCHawTb HMTi.
salt, cojib.
sea water, MopcKan Bo;^a.
salt water, cojieHaa B03;a.
glue, KJieS.
! sinew, cyxaa trvha.
feet, Horn.
animal, sKHBOTHoe.
boiled down, BBiaapen-
HblS.
fibre, BOJiOKHO.
stalk, cTe6ejrb.
resembling, noxOffiifi Ha.
nettle, KpanHBa.
tow, naKjia.
refuse, oxpenKH, epaKt.
he told them, OHt roso-
pnjt-b HMT).
paper, 6yMara.
principally, npenMyme-
CTBCHHO.
linen, nojtOTHanbiS.
•rags, Tpante, BCTorab.
I torn to pieces, pnsopBaH-
HblS BT) KyCKH.
formed into a pulp, npe-
BpameHHbiii b-b MaKoxb.
lastly, HaKonei^Tb.
glass, cxeKJio.
sand, necoKt.
flint, KpeMeHb.
alkaline, me^iogHMS.
Langnages of the World.
0 qacji'fe astiKOB'L bi> Mipt.
Enumeration, HCiHCjenie.
professor, nposeccop-b.
thousand, xwcaia.
sixty-four, mecxb;^ecaxb
Mexbipe.
of which, H31) K0HX1>,H3t
HHCJia KOTOpUXTj.
hundred, cxo.
eighty-seven, BOceMb^e-
caxb ceiib.
are spoken , roaopax'B
(Ha),
nine, ;i;eBaxB.
thirty- seven, xpn^i^aTb
CCMB.
two hundred, ^Btcx*.
seventy -six, ceMbsecaxi.
mecxb.
probably, BtpoaxHO.
includes, BKJiicHaexi..
-provincial corruption ,
npoBHHi];iajiH3Mi> (Mtcx-
Hoe Bbipaasenie).
general, o6it;i8,rj[aBHuS.
AMBHTHBli CIQBAPb.
a, an, ijiewh Heo^pe;^.;
OAHHT), HifeKOTOptlg; 12
hours — day, no ;^Bi!5Ha;^-
naTH HacoRTi Bt ^ent;
— day or twOjHtCKOjii.-
KO aseft, ;^Ha ;^Ba; —
chasing, — going, cm.
in chasing, in going.
abaft, nosa^n.
abandon, ocxaBJiaTb, no-
K^;^aTI>.
abbey, a66aTCTBO, nry-
MCHCTBO, MonacTBipb.
abbot, a66aTi.,HryMeH'i>,
HaCTOHTejIb BTj mohu-
CTbipt .
abhor, rnymaTbca m^mii.
ability, cnocofiHOCTb, ;^a-
poBanie.
able, cnoco6Hwfi, ncKyc-
hmM; to be — Cbixb bi>
cocTOjfHia.
aboard, na cy;i;H'6, na cy;^-
Ho; — the sloop,Hanijiio-
wh.
abode, ffinjinn^e, MibCTO-
npe6biBaHie.
abolish, yHHHToasaTb, ot-
M-feHHTb.
abolition, yHnqToateHie.
abominable, Mep3Kifi,rHyc-
Hbiit.
abominatlon,oTBpam,eHie,
OMepsenie.
aboriginal,nepBo6HTHBi&.
abound, HsoSHJtoBaxb'i'feM'B.
about, BOKpyrij, 0, o6t,
OKOjro. KacarejibHO, no,
Bi>;those immediately—
the person, npiiSjiHateH-
Hbie; — the house, no
Bceny AOMy; — to entan-
gle, roTOBbiS BanyxBi-
BaTb; to be— 6biTb ro-
TOBy, co6HpaTbca; an
attempt — to be made,
nonbiTKa, KOTopyio xo-
T'fejiH c^t^jraTb; to have
— one's self, HMifeTB cb
C06010.
above, HaffT., na Bepxy, na
He6ecaxTj,6o.i'fee,Bbime,
BHUieuHcaHHbifi; — all,
HO HTO BaffiH'fee Bcero.
abroad, Ha;^Bop*,B^3 ly-
iKRX'b Kpaax-B,
abruptly,6ticTpo,BApyr'b.
absence, oxcyTCTBie.
absent, oxcyxcxByioinift;
to be — oxcyxcxBOBaxb,
6bIXb BT. OXCyXCXBiH.
absolute, a6co.iiioxHHS,
coBepmeHHbiS, neorpa-
HHqcHHwfi; — ly, coBep-
mcHHO.
absolution , OTnymeme
rp'fexoB'b , paspiraeiiie
oxt rplfexOBt,
abstraction,pa3c*HHHocTi..
absurd, neji'fenwM; — ity,
HCJitnocTb; — ly, neji*-
no.
abundance, nsoenjie.
abundant, H3o6iijibHHfi.
abuse, 3Jioynoxpe6jieHie,
pyraxejibcxBO; term of
— pyraxejibHoe hjih
6paHHoe cjiOBO.
abyss, fiessHa, nponacxB,
nyjHHa.
academic al , aKa RCMH^e ■
cidfi,
academy, aKa;^eMia.
accede, corjamaxbCH; to —
to a requestjHcnojHHTB
npocbSy.
accelerate, ycKopaxb,
accent, y^apeHie, npoHS^
HouieHie,
accept, npHHHMaxb; — able,
npiflxKbiS, BbI^o;^HBIfi;
— ance, npHHHxie.
access, ^iocxyni,, npH-
cxyni); — ion, socmccT-
— 326
Bie, BCTynjienie (na
npecTOjn>).
accident, cjiyiaS, necqa-
CTJe; I had an, — co
MHofi cjiyqajrocB secqa-
cxie; — ally, cjiyqaSno.
acclamation, BocKjini^a-
Hie, pa;^0CTHoe bockjih-
i;aHie.
accolade, oCpa^iTb nocBA-
meHia BT) pbmapH.
accommodate, npsHopaB-
JHBaTI>,CHa6H!aTIj(BC'feMt
HyKHBIM-b).
accommodation , yRoScTBO ,
ycTpoficTBO, noM-feme-
Hie.
accompany, npoBomaTb,
■ conpoBO!K;i;aTb, aKKOM-
nannpoBaTB.
accomplice, coyHacTHHKt.
accomplish, coBepmaTt,
HcnojiHflTb; — ed,6jiaro-
BOcnHTaHHbifi, o6pa30-
BaHHbifi; — mentjCOBep-
ineHie, HcnoJHeHie, no-
SHanie, oCpasoBaHHOCxB.
accord, corjacie; to — co-
rjiaiuaTbca; of its own
— Ao6poBOJibHO,no co6-
CTBeHHofiBOJi'fe, no co6«
CTBCHHOMy ^o6yHt;^eHilo;
— ance, corjiacie; in —
ance witli,cor:racHO ch.
according to,corjiacHo cb,
no; — ly, corjiacHo, cjit-
jlOBaxejiBHO, B-b cji'fe?;-
CTBie cero; which he —
ly did, HTO ohtj n c;;'6-
JiajfB.
accost, saroBopHTB ct,
BcxynaxB bti pasroBopt
CB.
account, ciex-B, oxHext,
pascKaa-B, npHHHHa;to,
— ciHxaxB, noiHxaxB;
to— forjnsTiflCHHXb 1X0,
;iaBaTb oxiexi. o hcwb;
give a further —,pa3-
CKaffinxe ^aJibn]e;on his
— , pa^H Hero; not on
. any — , on no — , hh
no;^!. KaKHMTj bhromi;
of good — , snaxHbifi;
on — of, no npnqHH*,
no cjyjaio; on that — ,
no sxoMy.
aCCUmnlate, naKOnJinxb.
accnmulation,HaKonjreHie
accuracy, xo^Hocxb.
accurately, b*pho, xoh-
HO, aEKypaxHO.
accurst, npoKjiHXMfi.
accusation, ofiEHHeHie.
accuse, o6BHHHXb.
accustomed, npnBHHHBiS;
to he — , HMifexb o6bik-
HOBenie; to which men
are — , kT} Koxopowy
. Smjl^fl npHBBIKJIH.
ache, f>oji*xb.
achieve, coBepmaxB, okoh-
inBaxb, ncnojHHTb, o-
^jepiKHBaxB , npio6pt-
xaxb; — ment, nosBHn>,
acknowledge, npHsnaBaxB,
npHSHaBaxbCH; — ment,
npusnaBaHie, npHsna-
xeJBHOcxb; after mak-
ing suitahTe — ments,
H3'B3BnB'b npHJIHHHblM'b
oSpasoM-b CBOio npnsHa-
XejBHOCXB.
acknowledging, npnsHa-
Banie.
acorn, wejiyAb.
acquaint, sHaKOMHTB, yB*-
;^03IJraxb, nsB^maxb; to
— one's self, ySHasaxb;
— ed, CB'£;;ymiS, sna-
KOMBifi; to become — ed
with, ysnaBaxb o leM-b,
03HaK0MJIHBaxbCH CB ;
to maka — ed, 3HaK0-
MHXb; — ance, snaKOM-
cxBO, SnaKOMbiS, sna-
KOMenTj.
acquiescent, ycxynHHBwfi.
acquire , npio6p*xaxB ,
CHHCKHBaxbj — ments,
nosHaHiH.
acquisition, npioCptTe-
Hie, CHHCKame.
acquit, onpaB;^aTb; to —
one's self, jepwaxb ce-
fia BecxH ce6fi, ncnoJt-
HflXb CBOTO ofiasaHHOcxb;
to — one's self in a trial,
Bbij!;epBtnBaTb ncnbixaHie.
acre, aKp-B, noj^ecaxHHH.
across, noneper-B, ipeat.
act, RtficTBie, ^ibaHie, no-
CTynoKT., Rifejio, yKas^;
to — , ;i;tficxBOBaxb, no-
cxynaxb. nrpaxb; with
nothing for their legs
and feet to— upon, ne
HMifiH HHKaKofi onopBi
ji^K HOrii; — of parlia-
ment,saKOHt HSAaHHbiS
napjiaMBHXOM'BjtheFive
Mile — , yuas-B socnpe-
maion^ift BCHKOMy CBa-
meHHHKy, He ^p^Ha;^-
jieatan^eMy aHrjiHKaH -
CKoS E(epKBH, Haxo3;Hxb-
CH fi-inSKe DHXn MHJb
0XT> H^KOxopbixt ropo-
^ob-b; the licensing- ,
i^encypHoe npaBHJO;the
turnpike—, xaMoateH-
Hoe nocxanoBJieHie; —
of tyranny, THpaHCKoe,
npoHSBOJiBHoe fltficxBie;
he was in the — of hand-
ing him , OHTi yse
cxaJiT. eiay ^o;^aBaxb.
action, A^ScxBie, atajoCa,
HCK-b, cpaaccHie, 6HXBa;
to bring an — , naHH-
Haxb npoqeccb.
active, A*axejibHbiSj pac-
xoponHbiS.
»»•
327 —
activity, RtaTejibHocTb.
actual, AtflcTBHTejIbHblfi,
HacTOfliniS; — ly, ^'hfl-
CTBHTejIbHO, BT. CajttOMrb
actuate, noCyat/^aTb.
acuteuess, npoHnii,aTejib-
HOCTb, ocTpoymie.
A, D. (Anno Domini),
Bt jitTO oTTjPoat/^ecTBa
XpHCTOSa.
adapt, npHMtHaTb, npH-
cnoco6jiflTb; — ed, cno-
co6hwS Kii lemy.
add, npnSaBJiaTb, npHCO-
BOisynjiflTb, npHJiaraTb,
npHftaBaxb, yBejiHiH-
BaTbJ to — to, ^TOST)
yBejiHiHTb; — ed, bt.
coBOKynHOCTH ct; —
itional,npu6aBOHHLiM .
address, aflpeci, o6pa-
meaie, jtoBKOCTb, hc-
KycTBo; to — , a;^pecco-
BaTbca, oSpainaxbca,
oSpan^axb.
Adelaide, A/^eJb^eM;^■I>,
AflejiaH/^a.
adhere, AepataTbca, npH-
flepHtHBaxbca ; — ntjnpH-
BepKeHeii.'b, noci4;i,o-
Baxejb.
adjacent, npnjieatamiS,
CMCatHufi.
adjoin, upacoesHHaxbj
— ing, CMeatHbiS.
adjust, npHBOflHXb B-B no-
pa;^OK■B,cJIaacHBaxb, pt-
maxb.
admeasurement, M'gpa,
HSMtpeaie.
administer, npioOn^axb,
ffaBaxb; to — to, cno-
co6cxBOBaxb, cnocn'fe-
uiecxBOBaxb leaiy, ox-
npaBjaxb (npaBOcyjie);
to — justice, HHHHXb
cyftt H pacnpaBy.
administration, ynpa-
B^tchie, npaBjieHie; — of
justice, oxnpasjieHie
^paB0cy;^ia.
admirable, y;^HBHxejibHbifi,
yflHBjieHia flOcxofinuS.
admiral, a/i.MHpaji'b; — ty,
a/^M^paJxeiicxBO.
admiration, y^BBJieHie.
admire, yBaataxb, n04H-
xaxb, yftHBJiaxbca, jno-
GoBaxbca.
admission, BnycKtjBxoji;!..
admit, ftonycKaxb, Bnyc-
Kaxb, npuHHiraxb.
ado, xJioaoxbi.
adopt, npHHHMaXb, yCBOH-
Baxbjto — the contrary
plan, H36npaxb npo-
xuBonoJiOiKHbifi nyxb.
adorn, yKpauiaxb.
Adrian, AflpiaHi..
adrift, Ha bojk).
adulation, jiecxb.
advance, ftsaraxbca, no-
;i,BHraxbCH, h/;xh buc-
peAi',ftBnraxb B^epe/^1>,
ycKopaxb, nocQfimaxb,
^pe;^cxaBJIaxb,ccyffiaxb,
npOH3BO;tHXb Bl. HHH'B,
npnGaBJiaxica (o ;^H'h,
jiyH'£);to — in yeai-s,
cxaplixb; to — towards
any one, noflxoftuxb
Kt KOMy; your cour-
age forth — , noKaatHxe
CBOK) xpaSpocxbj in —
BnpeftH.
advantage , BbI^o;^a, nojib-
3a , npeHuymecxBo;
to be seen to — , npe/i;-
cxaBjaxbca cb BbI^o;^-
HoS cxopoHbi.;to take — ,
CM. take-
adventure, npnKjiioieHie,
noxoHfteme, — r, uc-
Kaxejib npHKjiioqeHifi,
yftajrei^t.
adventurous, oxBasuuM,
y/^aJIofi.
adversary, npoxHBHUKt.
advertisement, oCT>HBJie-
Hie.
advice, coBtxt.
advisable, SaaropasyM-
Hofl nojiesHbifi.
advise, coBtxcBaxi, npn-
coBlsxoBaxb; — r, coBt-
xoBaxeVib.
advocate, a;i;B0Kax'i,, 3a-
cxynHiiK'b.
advowson, npaBO, nona-
HHTCJia.
affect, xporaxb, aaxpo-
THBaxb, CMymaxb, H-
Mtxb Bjiiaaie na hxo,
npuxBopaxbca MfiMtj
— ion, CKJ0HH0cxB,npii-
BaSaHHOCXb , JIKlSOBb,
HyBcxBO, ftBHffieHie /i,y-
lueBaoe; — ionate, atat-
Hbifi, jnoSamifl.
affirm, ^o;^XBepffi/l;aTb.
affix, npaSHBaxb.
afflict, ouenajiiiBaxb, co-
Kpyuiaxb , uyqaxt;
, — ion, oropieHle,
CK0p6b.
affluent, npaxoKx..
aff'ord, AOcxaB^iaxB, sa-
Baxb, ObixBEtcocxoaHiH,
affright, ncnyrx,.
affront, ocKopSaaxb, o6h-
Htaxb.
afloat, n-ibiByo^ift aa boa*,
Haxoftamifica aa BOJib-
Hofi BOA*.
aforesaid, BHmecKa3aH-
awfl, BbiuieynoiiaBy-
xbiS.
afraid. To be — , Soaxbcaj
to become — , aaHnnaxb
Goaxbca.
afresh, caoBa, CBasaoBa.
Africa, A*paKa; — n, a*pii-
Kaacidfi.
— 328 —
after, nocji'£, nocji* Toro,
nocji Toro itaKi), no
npomecTBiH, sa, cny-
CTH, no; they are — us,
OHH rOHHTCfl 3a HaMHJ
who was — a frolick,
KOTOpoMy xotIj-iocI) na-
npoitasHTb; — all, na-
K0He^1., CBcpx'b Toro;
— ages, 6yAyD:^ia Bpe-
MCHa; — circumstances,
noc;it/],yK)mia o6ctos-
TCJibCTBa: — life, ocTa-
TOKTj 3KH3HH;
noon
nonojiy;i,eHHoe BpcMa;
— noon or in the— noon,
nonoJtyflHH; — wards,
Bt nocjitftCTBiH, nocjffi,
nocji'fi Toro, hotomI),
cnycTfl.
again, onaxb, cHosa;
never — , Cojibuie hh-
Kor;;a.
against, npoTHBi., o, 061,,
Ha, Kt.
age , BtKTj , BOSpaCTI.,
jftTa, crapocTb; four,
years of — , nexbipe
roAa OT-b po^y; — d,
noaiHJofi, CTapwS, npe-
CTapiJibiM.
agent, arcHTi,.
aggregate , coeAHHeaie,
coBOKynaocTb, cKon^ie-
Hie, cn;'6ajieHie; cobo-
KyUHblS, C0e/^HHeHHbl8.
aggrieve, oropnaTb.
agility, jioBKocxb.
agitate, BOJiHOBaxb.
agitation, BHyxpeHHee
BOJiHenie, cmyxneHie.
ago, TOMy Ha3a;^'bJlong— ,
;i,aBHO.
agog, fflaHf/^yu^ifi lero.
agonizing, HCTepsaiomifi.
agony,aroHifl, npeftCMepx-
Haa 6opb6a,
agree, corjiaiuaxbCH, 6birb
corjtacHbiM'b, corjiaco-
Baxbca; — able, npiax-
HH1I; — ably, npiaxHo;
— naent, corJiameHie,
corjiacie.
agricultural, seMjiefltJb-
lecidfi.
agriculture, seMJieftiijiie.
ah, ax-b! a!
ahead, Bnepefl-b, Bnepe;i;H.
ahoy, refll cayiuafi'.sail — ,
cyftHO bh;^ho! boat — ,
Ha HMioiiR'fi, Ajuo!
aid, noMOn^b; to — , no-
Moraxb, nocofijiaxb;
to — the success, co-
fl-feMcxBOBaxb ycntxy.
aim, npHi];'feJiHBaxb, n't-
THXbj fi^OMoraxbca nero.
air, Bosjijx'h, apia, Me-
jEOftia.
ajar, nojryoxnepxbia.
alahaster, aaeSacxpt.
alack, ysbi!
alacrity,pa/i;ocxbj atHsocxb.
alarm, Tpesora, cyMaxo-
xa, CMyxa, ncayrajto — ,
xpeBOHSHXb, Hcnyraxb,
oSesnoitoHxb; the — of
fire, nojKapHua xpe-
Bora; — ing, xpeBOHt-
Hbifl , o6e3aoK0HBaio-
m,m; — ingly rapid,
cxpauiHO Sbicxpua.
alas, yBbi!
alderman, ajibflepMaHt.
ale, 9jib, aurjiiwcKoe nn-
Bo; — house, uHBHaa JiaB-
ita, lUHHOitxij — house
keeper , cosepataxcjib na-
xefiHaro /i,OMa, uiHHKapb
Alexander, AJIeKcaH;^p'b.
alienate, oxiyat/^axb, npo-
/^aBaxb , nepeBO/i;HXb ,
nepeflasaxb.
alight, cjiisaxb, ca^nxbca.
alike, paBiiwwT. o5pa-
SOMTj, paBHOMtpHO.
alive, HiHBofi , wh ffia-
BBIX-b, OStHBjeHHHS.
alkaline, mejo^HbiS.
all, Bce, Becb, BcaKifl;
BecbMa, oicHb, KpafiHe,
— along, Bce BpcMs;
— round, BOKpyrij Bce-
ro HJiH Bcefi; — through,
no Eceny , no Bcefi;
seven in — , Bcfext
(liaci)) cfimepo.
allege, noKaswBaxb, npa-
BOftHXb, npe/i;cxaBJiaxb,
ccbiJiaxbca na hxo.
alleviate, oS^eriaxb.
alliance, coiost.
alligator, KafijuaH't, ame-
pHItaHCIcifi KpOKOftHJII.,
ajumraxopt.
allot, nasHa^axb.
allow, atajoBaxb, nasHa-
4axb, nosBOJiaxb, ftony-
cicaxb; — ance, flosBOje-
Hie, ao3BOJieHie,corjiacie,
nopnia, nacK-b.
allure, Maauxb, npana-
HHBaXb.
alluring, npHiiaHinBua.
allusion, HaMeicaaie, na-
MCK-b.
ally, coK)3HHKi,; to — ,
COe/^HHaTb , 6bIXb BTj
CBOfiCXB'fe.
almanac, almanack, mi&-
cai^ocjioBTb, KaJIeH;^apbj
— maker, coHQHHxejib
KajicH/i,apa; — weather
wisdom , npeflCKasbi-
Banie noroftw no Ka-
JIeH/^apIO.
Almighty, BceMoryiqifi,
almost, noixH.
alms, MHJiocxbiHa.
aloes, aaocBoe hjih paft-
CKoe flepeBO.
alone, oahh-b; xojiKO, e^Ha-
cxBCHHo; to let — , ocxa-
BJiaxb, He xporaib.
J
329
along, BAOJib no; us they
went — ,B0 BpeM/T nyxu;
had come — , npHCxaj't
icb Sopxy; — side, no;^-
Jilj, Sopxt ex. SopxoMXj;
with, EMtCXll CTj.
aloof, btj ox/i;ajeHiH.
aloud, rpoMKO.
already, yse.
also, xaKHce.
altar, npecxoai., ajiTapb,
HtepTBeHHUifB (y flpes-
HHXX>}.
alter, uepcMliHHXb; —
ation, nepejil&Ha, h3-
MliHeHie,
alternate, nonepeMtn-
HuS; on the — days, >ie-
peat ffeHbj — ly, none-
peMtHHO.
although, xoxa.
altina, ajixBiHRmtii.
altogether, coBctni..
always, Bcer^a.
A. M., yxpa, /i,o nojiyftHa.
am, CM. be; how — 1 to
know .... from, Kaui.
MHi oxjiaqHxb. . . .oxx.?
amain, bo bcio cHJiy.
amass, CKOUJiaxb, naKon-
jiaxb.
amaze, HsyujiaTb; — mcnt,
H3yMjienie.
Amazon , AnasoHCKaji
pliica.
ambassador, hocojit..
ambition, 4ecxojiio5ie.
ambitious, lecxojnofia-
BblM; — of, Hta/^Hblfl KTi.
ambuscade, saca^a.
amends, saMhaa, yAOBje-
TBopenie; to make — ,
BOSHarpaffiAaxb.
America, AMepnKa; — n,
AMepHKaaei^T., anepH-
KaHCKiM.
amiable, jiioSesHbifl, mh-
JibiS.
amid, amidst, cpcAn, no-
cpeAH, jiejKAy.
amiss, Hec^acxie, 6'^p,'d;
xyAO, He xaKT>,
amity, Apy>KecxBo.
ammunition, QocBue npn-
nacbi.
among, amongst, iieatAy,
btj Hacji'hi from — , hsx.
cpeAbi, hstj HHCja.
amount, cyMma, KOJiHie-
CXB0,1HCJI0; to — to, CO-
cxaBJiaxb, AOxoAHXb ao.
amour, JiioSoBHaa CBasb.
ample, no.iHuM Aocra-
XOIHblS.
amply, oQmnpHo, npo-
cxpaiiHO, BnojiH'fe.
amuse, saSuBjtaxb;— ment,
saSaBa, yBecejieaie.
analogy, aHajoria, noAO-
5ie.
analyze, pasSapaxb, paa-
jiaraxb.
anathematize, npeAasaxb
anaeeMi.
ancestor, npaoTci^i., npe-
AOICB.
anchor, aKopb) the best
bower — , njiexxx,; — ed,
cxoamift Ha HKopt; to
be — ed, cxoaib na
aKopfi.
ancient, apeBHiS^ cxapHH-
HbiH, 6biBmiS, npeiKHiS;
— ly, Bt cxapHHy, h3-
Apesjie.
anchovy, aH^oyct, cap-
ACJIb.
and, H.
anecdote, aneicAox't.
anew, CHOBa, onaxb.
angel, aarejEt.
anger, raiBx.; in—, B^
cepAn.axx..
Anglican, aarjiHKaHCKifl.
Anglo Saxon, Aarjio - Can-
• coHei];x., aarjio-caitcGH-
cida asbiKx.; aarjio-caK-
COHCKifl.
angry, rntEHbiH, cepAH-
xuM; to be — with,
cepAHxbca na.
animal, ajuBoxHoe.
animate, oAymcBjiaxb.
animation, oAymeBjieHie,
ABHffieaie.
animosity, BpaKAa, Bpam-
AeSaocxb, pa3Aopx>.
annalist, jiixoriHcei^ii.
annals, jitxonHCH.
Anne, Aaaa.
annex, npHcoeAHaaxt,
npHJiaraxb. •
announce, BoaB^maxb,
oQ-baBJiaxb; — meut,o6'6'
aB.ieaie, noBtcxica.
annoy, oSesnoitoHBaxb,
HaAOliAaxb.
annual, roAOBoS, toah^i-
Hbia, ejKeroAHbifi; — ly,
eateroAHO, bx. roAt.
annul, yHH^xoHaxb, ot-
Miaaxb.
anoint, Masaxt, noMasH-
Baxb; the Lord's — ed,
noMasaHHHKii.
anon, Toxiacii,
another, spyroft, eu^e
OAtiai): one-
Apyrx.
Apyra, OAHHx. Apyraro.
answer, oxBixt; to make
— , oxBS-iaxb; to — ,
oxBt>iaxb, oxBtiaxbHa,
'cooxB'fexcxBOBaxb; to —
prayer, ycjiwmaxb mo-
■iiHXBy; to — the pur-
pose, CJiyjKHXb HtMX);
to — a quarrel, Koa-
HHXb ccopy.
ant, MypaBefl.
we a'n't = we are not.
antagonist, npoxHBHHKx> .
Anthony, Aaxoat, Aa-
TOHiil.
antichrist, aaxnxpHcxt.
anticipate, npcABapaxb,
npcAaojiaraxb, npcAy-
42
-- 330
^peffl;^aTIl,o^epeatHBaTl,.
antiquary, aHTHKBapifi,
SHaxoKij ffpeBHOCTeM.
antiquity, flpeBHocTBjCTa-
pnHa.
anxiety, HerepntHie, jiio-
fioHHTCTBO, onacenie,
sa6oTa,03a6oieHie; she
was in tlie greatest — ,
OHa 6bijia BecBMa osa-
fiOHCHa.
anxious, saSoTJHBBiftjSes-
noKOHKHH, Jiio5ontiT-
Hwu; to be — , ona-
CaTBCK, 3a60TIITbCfl,
ROMoraTbca nerojthe —
fears, onacema.
any, KaKoS HH6y;i;B, KaKoM
jih6o, J[K)6oi, BCHKiM,
KTO HH6yia;b, ^to hh-
6y;^B, HtcKOJiBKo; —
BOAy, — man, — one,
— person, kto HH6y/i;B,
BCHKifi, EOTOpBlfi HH-
6jj\b; — how, KaKT.
HH6y;i;b; — thing, ito
H06y/];b, Bce; — thing
but, BOBce He; for —
thing 1 know, ckojibko
H SHaiO, CK0.IbK0 MHt
H3B'fiCTHO;not — thing,
HHHero; not to allow —
person. He hosbojihtb
HHKOMy; — where, r;!;^
6bl TO HU 5biJI0, fff'fi
Hn6y/i;B.
apart, oco6o, oTfl-fejiBHo,
Bi> CTopoH'fi; — ment,
KOMHaxa, noKofi; sleep-
ing — ment, cnajiBHH.
aperture, oTBepcTie,
apologize, HSBHHaTbCK,
onpaBftbiBaxbca.
apology, iiSBUHeiiie; to
make an — , h3bii-
HSTbCH.
apothecary, anxeKapb.
appalling, ycTpauiiixejb-
hmS, CTpanjHBiS.
apparel, njiaxbe, o;^effifla,
Hapa/i;!).
apparent, oieBH;^Hbi8,aB-
HBlfi, npHTBOpHBiS J HO
B^;^HMOMy, Ha B3rjiaAT)}
— ly, no BH;i;HMOMy.
appear, aBJiaxbca, na-
3aTBca,aBCXB0BaxB, bbi-
xo;;hxb, noKasHBaxBca,
npe;];cxaBaxb; it — s,
bh/i;ho.
appearance, PHj^-B^Hapyat-
HOCTB,HapyatHbifi bhaxi,
npasHaKX., npHMtxa,
noaBJieHie
aBKa BX)
cysx>; made his — , no-
flBHJica; to all — , no
BH;i,HMOMy; with much
— , CO BCtMH npnsna-
KaMH.
appellation, nposBanie,
HaHMeHOBanie.
appendage, npH;i;aqa,np0-
SaBjenie, RonojiHeHie.
appetite, anexHxi..
applaud, xBa^HTB, op,o-
6paxB.
apple, a5jiOKo; hSjoihbiM.
application, npaMtHenie,
npocbSa.
apply, npHKjraAbiBaxB, 06-
pamaxBca, • ynoxpe6-
JiaxB, Ha3HaiaTB; to —
for, HcnparuHBaxB; to —
one's self, npujiaraxB
cxapame.
appoint, HasHa^axBj —
ment, HasHaieaie, Mt-
CXO, flOJiatHOCXB.
appreciate, i^tHaxB.
aprehend, onacaxBca, 60-
axbca.
apprehension, onacenie,
6oa3Hb,
to be apprehensive of,
onacaxbca, cxpamnxbca
Hero.
apprentice, yqenHKii, —
ship, ynenie (y Macxe-
pa).
approach, npH6jiHa!eHiej
to — , cSjIHHtaXBCff,
npnCjiHataxbca, ^o;^xo-
RHXb, npHcxynaxB k-b
qesiy.
approbation, oAoSpeme.
appropriate, ynoxpeSjiaTB,
onpeAtJiaxbjHasHaiaxb.
approve, o;i;o6paTb.
apricot, aOpnicocii.
April, Anptjib.
apron, ^epe;^HHKX>, *ap-
xyKT,, 3anoHx>.
apt, CKjoHHbifi, cnoco6-
HBifi, roxoBBi3; — ly,
npHJIHHHO, KcxaxH.
ApuliUS, AnyjiiS.
Arabia, Apasia; — n, apa-
BificKiM.
arbitrary, caMOBJiacxHwS,
npOHSBOJBHHfi.
Arcadian, apKaACKia.
arch, cBo/ii'B, apKa; — ed,
CO cboromtj, ;^y^oo-
GpasHBift.
archbishop, apxienHCKon-b;
— ric,apxienHCKOncxBO.
archer, cxptJier^'B (h3t>
jiyKa), jryiHHKx.; — y
meeting, cocxasaxejB-
Haa cxptjiBOa (nst Jiy-
KOBX.).
Archipelago,\pxHnejiar'bj
apxnnejiarcKiH.
architect , apxaxeKx-L;
— ure, aoRHCcxBO, ap-
xuTCKxypa.
Arctic, apKXHHecKiS, ct-
BepHBifi.
ardent, nujiKifi, ropaiift,
ycepji;HHS.
ardour, nwjiKocxB, ycep-
Rie; in the — of joy,
BT> nbwy pa;^ocxH,
331 —
are, gcmm, ecxe cyrt; cm.
be.
area, noBepxHOCTb, n^o-
argue, /^OKasMBaTb, cno-
pHTb.
argument, aoboa*. .
aright, xopomo; do I un-
derstand you — , xopo-
meHbKO JiH a Bacii no-
HflJTb?
arise, noAHHwaTbCH, acTa-
BaTb, BOCKpecaTb, bo3-
cxaBaxb (HSTb Mepr-
BblXT,), npOHCXOflHTb,
aristocracy, apncroKpa-
tIh.
aristocrat, apHCTOKpar-b;
— ic, — ica], apHCTOKpa-
THHeCKiS.
ark, KOBieri) (HoeB'B).
arm, pyna, Mtioma; - s,
opyatie, pymbfl, repei.;
at — s,in — s, BoopyHten-
hh8; to — , BOopyHcaTb;
— ada,.apMaAa, ^jtot-b;
— ament, MopcKaa ch-
jraj — ed to the teeth,
heavy — ed,BoopyjKeH-
hh8 cb roJiOBH AO Hori)}
— istice, nepcMHpie; —
oreal, rep6oBbiS} — our,
6poHK, JiaTHj — y, BoM-
cKo, apMifl,
around, BOKpynj; — and
— , KpyroMT), those—,
OKpyataiomie.
arose, cm. arise.
arouse, pa36yffiAaTb, B03-
fiyffiflaTb.
arrange, ycTpoaaaTb, y-
HpestAa'Ttj BHCTpaHBaTb
• npHBOAHTB BTj Hopa-
ROK-B, yfiapaTb, pacnpe-
jijkamh no.
array, crpofi, 6oeBofi no-
pHAOK-bjOAeffiAajHapHATj.
arrest, 3aAepHtHBaTb,ocTa-
HaBjiHBaTb, apecTOBaTt.
arrival, npnCbiTJe, npa-
xoAt, npitSftT..
arrive, npnCbiBaxb, npn-
xoAHTb, npi'feSffiaTb, na-
CTaBaTb,HacTynaTb,AO-
xoflHTb, AOCTHraxb} to
— at conclusions, floxo-
^nxb AO saKjnoHemfi.
arriving, npHfibixie, npn-
njibixie.
arrow, cxptjia.
art, xyftOfficcxBO, HCKycx-
BOj — of war, BoeHHoe
HCKyCXBO.
Arthur, Apxyp-b
article, xoBap'b,Bemb;—s
of value, BitHKbia Be-
mn.
artifice, xuxpocxb.
artiJicial, ncKycxBeaHbiS.
artillery, apxajraepia.
artisan, peiiecjieHHHKi..
artist, xyftoatHHKi., ap-
XHCX-b.
artlessness , npocxo^y-
mie.
as, KaifB, laK-B KaKi), no
Mip* TOrO KaK1>, HTO,
Kor^a, KaKofi} — ... — ,
laKJKe... KaK-Bj — for,
— to, 1X0 Kac'aexcfl ^O;
— if, KaKi) 6yAT0 6bi;
— it were, KaK-b 6bi,
xaKrb CKa3axb; — much,
cxojibKO; — much — ,
cxoJibKO CKOJibKO; — soon
— possible, Kaifb mohi-
.HO cKopie; — well — ,
xaKate KaK-b, xaKffie xo-
pomo KaUTj, CKOJIbKOj
BO — to, xaKT> MTo6bi;
SO kind— , xaK-b ]i,o6p'h;
so much — , Ha cxojibKO
Hxo6bij a thousand ti-
mes—high, Bt xbicaqy
pasT. Bbime) it might
be — well to return, ae
AypHo 6u Gbijio B03Bpa-
•XlIXbCH.
ascend, nouMMaxbca, Boc-
xoRHTb, BCTynaxb (na
npecTOJ'b); — ancy,
— ant, npeBocxoffCTBo;
— ant, npeBOCxoAamiM,
CH^bHte.
Ascension, OcxpoB-b Bos-
Hecenia.
ascent, BCxo^-b (Ha ropy),
BOBBMuieHie.
ascertain , onpeAtJiaxb,
BbiB*AWBaTb, ysHaBaxb,
yAOcxoBlbpaxbca.
ascrihe, npnnHCbiBaxb.
to be ashamed of, cxh-
AHXbCH 'qero.
ashes, sojia, nenej-b.
ashore, na Ceper-b, na
6epery.
Asia, Asia.
aside, btj cxopony.
ask, cnpaujHBaxbj npo-
CHXbj to — (in church),
npoBOsrjiamaTb ; to — a
question , A*-iaTb bo-
npocb , cnpauiHBaxb;
to— for, npocHxb, xpe-
6oBaxb_, noxpefioBaxb.
asleep, cnamiH; to be — ,
cnaxb; to fall — , sa-
cbinaxb.
asparagus, cnapna.
aspect, bhatj; the — of
affairs, nojtOHcenie A^Jia.
aspen, ocHHOBwfl.
aspiration, cTpeMjenie.
aspire, AOMoraxbCH, ao-
Cnaaxbca Hero, cxpe-
MHXbCH K-b Heny.
ass, ocejiTj.
assail, HacxynaxB na
Koro , BaxBaxbiBaxb,
sacxHraxb; — ant, Ha-
naAaK)n;ifi.
assassin, y6igAa; to —
ate, ySuBaxbj ynepm-
— 332
EjrjiTt; — ation, y6iH-
cbto, cMepTOySificTBO.
assault, npncTynt, na-
^a/^eHie; to—, niTyp-
MOBaTb, ERTH npiTCTy-
iioMt Ha 1T0, Hana-
SaTb Ha Koro.
assemble, cofinpaTt, co-
3tIB,TTI>, co6npaTbCfi.
assembly, coGpanie, cb-
assent, corjracie, cons-
Bojienie, to — , corjia-
maTbca.
assert, yTBepwAaTt; — ion,
yBifepeHie.
assiduity, npiureataHie.
assign, HagnaiaTb; to — a,
reason,npHBOflHTi> npn-
Hnny.
assimilate, ynoAoCjiHTB.
assist, noMOraTB; — ance,
noMOiqi.; — ant, no-
MOmHHKI..
assize, yrojroBHwS cy;^*^
sacfejiaHie, naaaTa npn-
CSlffiHblXT..
associate , coo6n^HnK'B,
TOBapHmi); to — , coe-
RiiHHTb, npncoe/^nHHTB.
associations, noapofino-
CTH, oficTOHXejhCTBa.
assume, npHnnmaTb^, npn-
CliOHBaTt.
assurance, yaifepeHie, 06-
Haj^eatnBaHie.
assure, yBlfepHTb; — dly,
HaBlbpHO.
astonish, jAviBJunh, nsyw-
JHTf, — ing, y.^HBH-
TejMiHfi 5 — ment,
y;^nBJeHie, nsyjijieHie.
astound, visjwjunb, orjry-
niaTb.
asunder, nonojaw-B.
asylum, yS*. 'nuie, npiioxb.
at, Btj y, npn, no, na,
sa, ct; not — all, hh-
CKOJIbKO.
ate, CM. eat.
Atbenian, kevmnmm'h.
athletic, aTjteTHiecKiS,
fioraTBipcKift.
Atlantic, ATJiaHTniecKift
CKeaHT..
atmosphere, B03;iyx'B, vn-
Mocitepa; — of pesti-
lence , saqyMjeHHbiit
B03;^yx'B.
atmospheric, axaocsepH-
HecKiS.
atrocious, ntecTOKift, rnyc-
HBlft.
atrocity, rnycHOCTb, Hte-
CTOKOCTb.
attach, npnBH3biBaTi.,coe-
ji.viHRThCE\ to — an im^
portance to, bbicoko
i^tHHTB; — ed, npHBH-
saHHBiS, npeAannBifi; —
ment, rpnBHsaHHocTb.
attack, aTTaKa, Hana^^e-
nie; to — aTxaKOBaxB,
Hana;;aTb ; to — any
one's interests, ^tS-
CTBOBaxB B-B ympeSi)
HHTepeca Koro.
attain, ROCTnraTB;— ment
^ocTHjKCHie, SHanie, no-
BHanie.
attempt, nonHTKa, noKy-
meHie;to — , HBiraTBca,
noKymaTBCK, cxapaTb-
CH, npo6oBaTB.
attend, npncyTCXBOBaxB,
6BiBaxB y, 6BiBaTb npn,
npoBOHtaxB, conpoBOiK-
p;axB, cjiyTKHXB y; to —
to, BHmiaxB HCMy, ne-
mncH 0 HCM-B, co6jiio-
RaxB, HcnoJinaxB; — an-
ce, npncyxcxBie, noct-
menie; — ant, conpo-
BOiK^aiomiii, eonyxHRDCB,
cjiyatnxejB ; — ants,
npncjiyra, cBHxa; — ed
with conpflHteHHBificB.
attention, BHHMame; to
pay — , oSpaxHXB bhh-
inaHie.BHHMaxB.cjiymaxB.
attentive, BHHMaxejtBHBift.
attitude, nojro3KeHiex*jra.
ocaHKa; firm — , xsep-
aOCXB.
attorney, a^BOKax-B,
cxpanqiR, noBtpenHbifi.
attract, npnBjsKaxB; —
ion, npnxHffieHie, npn-
BjicKaxejiBHOcxB; — ive,
npnBjeKaxejiBHBiS.
attribute, npnnncBiBaxB.
audacious, oxBaatHBifi,
CM-fejIblH.
audacity, oxBaacHocxB,
CMtJOCXB.
audience, cjymaxejiH.
auditor, cjymaxejiB.
augment, yMHOwaxB, yBe-
JTOTHBaXB, yBejIUHH-
BaXBCJI.
August, AiirycT-b.
aunt, xexKa.
Australasia, Ascxpasiff.
Australia, ABcxpajiia;
— n, ABcxpajten-B, as-
cxpajTBCnifi.
Austria, ABcxpia.
authentic, j^ocxoBifepHBifi;
to — ate, yxBepjK/iaxB,
3acBn;;'bxejiBcxB0Baxb.
author, co^nnnxejiB, — hh-
n;a , aBxcp-B, bhhob-
hhk'b; to — ise, ynojiHO-
MOHHBaxb; — ity, Ha-
gajibcxBO, Bjiacxb, ch«
ja, MHtnie, aBTopn-
xexT..
autobiography, aBxo6i6-
rpa*is.
autumn, occhb.
auxiliary, BcnoMoraxejii.-
HOe BOfiCKO.
avail, noJbsa; to be of
— 333 -
no — , He npnHOcnTb
nojtSBi, Hnqero ne no-
MoraTt; to — , nojib30-
Baxbcii M-bMi,; — able,
nojiesHbiil, roflHbiH, cno-
coGhiiiK.
avarice, citynocTi,.
avenge, oxMinaxb; — r,
MCTIITeJII..
avenue, nota^t. ;^opora.
aver, yTBepmaaTb.
average, cpe;i;Hee ihcjto;
cpe;^HiS.
averse, necKJOHHHM, hc-
oxothhH.
aversion, orBpamenie.
avidity, ajiHHocTK, iku/^-
HOCTS,
avoid, nsfitrarb, mhho-
Baxs, yffajHxii.
avow, npnsHaBaxB, oGna-
pynnBaxb; — al, npn-
SHanie; to make an—
alj npn3HaBaxbca; — ed,
npnsHaHHbiii, o6menpH-
SHaHHblS, H3Bt,CXHblS.
await, Ht^aTb, BbiatHRaxb,
^pci^cxo)IXb.
awake, paaSy^jiiaTb, npo-
6yffi;i;axb, npoGyjKAaxb-
CH, npocwnaxtca; to
be — , He cnaxb.
awaken, cm. awake
award, ptmeHie, npnro-
BOpij.
aware, ocMoxpnxejbHbifi,
ocxopoffiHbifi; to be — ,
npeaBHA*Tb , ocxepe-
raxbCH, 3Haxb; to make
— , ;^aBaxb SHaxb, yna-
3biBaxb Ha.
away, npoMb; — went
Gilpin, yjieTtj-B nauii.
rHJinnHf, — went hat
and wig, cjrex'fcjiH mja-
na H napHK-b.
awe, cxpaxT.; to — ,
ycxpamaxfc.
awful, CTpainHHS; — ]y,
cxpamHO.
awhile, HtcKOjrbKo spe-
Meiiii, He ^OJiro.
awkward, nejOBKifi, ne-
yicjiioffliS,' HeyAoSHbiS
awoke, cm. awake.
ay, axt!
ayp, yBbi!
the Azores, AsopcKic
ocxpoBa.
azure, jraBypesbiS, ro-
jrySofi.
babe, baby, pe6eH0Ki>,
MajioxKa,
Babel, Babylon, Basu-
JIOHT..
back, cnnna; 3a;i;Hifi; na-
3aAT>, oSpaxHO; at the
— , csaflH; with ar-
mour on her — , OAt-
xaa Bt. Jiaxbi; — side,
saAt; — ward, —wards,
Ha3a;^•b.
bad, xyAofi, j;ypHofi; a
— tooth ache, chjib-
Haa 3y6Hafl 6oJib} — ly,
AypHO; — ness^ xy^oe
cocxoHHie.
bade, cm, bid.
badge, SHaKt, npuMlbxa.
bag, Mtmoicb, cyMKa, bo-
JibiHKa; a — full of,
MtmoKT. cb; — gage,
noKJiaata, Saraatt; —
pipe, BOJibiHKa; — pi-
per, BOJIblHOHRHK-b.
bail, ocBo6offiji;axb nopy-
KOK).
bailiff, cy3;e{icKifl npn-
cxaat, SKseKyxopi).
bait, CjiesKa.
bake, neibj — r, ncKapb,
fiyjOHHnKT)' — r's shop,
Cyjo^Hafl.
balance, paBHOBlbcie; to
— , to keep — d, ;^ep•
ataXb BTi paBHOBtClH.
balcony, GajKOH-b,
bale, bale out, oxjnBaxb
(BOAy).
ball, MHHHKt, fiajr-B.
ballad, 6ajjrana.
balloon, BosayrnHbiHraapt.
ban, n;epKOBHoe oraame-
Hie.
band, xojna, maMita, ;5py-
HsnHa; — box, Kopo-
6oHKa, KapxoHt.
bandage, nepeEasbiBaxb.
bandit, banditto, pas-
GoaHnKt, CaHAHX'b.
banish, nsrOHHXb, y;^a-
jrnxb; — ment, H3rHa-
Hie, y^ajreHie.
bank, fiepen., CaHKa,
Mejib,npHropoK'b,6aHKi>5
— bill, — note, 6aH-
KOBbiS 60jiexs.,
banner, snaMH.
banter, Hs^.tBaxbca, na-
cMtxaxbca.
baptism, Kpcmenie.
baptist, Kpecxnxejib, ne-
peKpen^eneii;!!, 6an-
xncxi..
baptize, KpecxnTb.
bar, GpycoK-b, noJTOca,
sanopij, nonepeiHHa,
nepHja, 3a^opo;^Ka, aa-
BajTi., nperpa3;a, 6ap-
pHKa;;a, poraxKa, cyAt,
cyAeftcKaa, cyjieGnaa
najiaxa, npwcyxcxBie;
toll — , lujiarGayMi..
Barbadoes, BapSa^ocb.
barbarian, sapBap-b.
barbarism,barbarity,Bap-
BapcxBO, ;^HKoe coexo-
HHie.
barbarous, BapsapcKifi.
334 —
. HeoCpasoBaHHBiS.
Barbary, BapBapiH.
barber, 6pa«o6peH.
bard, Capff-b, n'feBei<'i>.
bare, cm. bear.
bare, rojibiSj aenoKpti-
TBiM, cKy/(HMM, npo-
CToS , e;(HHCTBeHHiiifi;
— headed, nenoKpti-
TOK) rOjrOBOK),
bargain, noKynKa ; into
the — , btj ;^o6aBOK'b.
barge, fiapata, KaTepT>;
— man, rpeOei^'b Ha
nunonKt.
bark, Kopa, jiafi; to — ,
jiaaTt.
barley, niMCHb; — bread,
aqmeHHHM xjitC-b.
barn, HtHTHHi^a, para.
baron, 6apoHi>.
barrack- square, Kasap-
MCHHaa njioma/^b.
barrel, 6oiKa, ctboju.
(pyatefiflBiS).
barren, 6e3njioAHBiS.
barricade, saropassHBaTB
poraTKaMHj ciaBHTt
6appHKaflM.
barrier, SapBept, saro-
po«Ka, nepHJia, pt-
mexKa, poraxKa, lujiar-
fiayMTj.
base, ocHOBanie; HHSKifi,
^o;^JrBI3; to — , ocho-
BBIBaXB.
basin, bason, nojiocKa-
TejTBHas HainKa, lauia,
TasHK-bj BOfloeMij, 6ac-
ceMflTb.
basket, KopsHHa, Kopsn-
HOHHBifij — handle,
;iyffiKa (y uinarH); —
hilted, CB ;i;yfflKoioj —
woman, pa3HomHi;a;
— work, KOpSHHmHHBH
B3ff']bJlifl.
bastard, no6o^Hoe ]!,vn:a.
baste, oCjHBaxB MacjioMi..
batcb, ncHB.
bathe, KynaxB, npHMa-
'iHBaTB, KynaTbCH.
bathing expedition, 9kc-
neflHi?ia ]i,sa KynaHiH.
battalion, SaTajiioHTb.
batter, bojiothtb.
battery, CaxapeH.
battle, cpajKBHie, 6HTBa;
to fight a — , RaBaxB,
cpaffiCHie; to — , Shtbch,
cpaataTBCH; — field,
nojie cpaateHifl.
bawl out, KpHqaTB BO Bce
ropjio, opaTB.
bay, ry6a, Cyxxa; to—,
JiaaxB, BwxB.
be, Gbixb, Haxo;^HXBCfl;
conceiving to — chan-
gedj nojiaraa, hto cji*-
flOEajo pasMtnaxB; he
will not — long, oh-b
;tOJiro HCOcxaHexca; if
any one — to tell me,
ecsa6'h kxo HH6ysB mh*
CKasajirB; it was to —
found, ero mohiho 6bi-
Jio HaMxH; nothing is
to — hoped, HHiero ne-
JIB3H 0fflH;;axB; no time
was to — lost, Hejibsa
6bmo xepaxB BpeireHH;
the work to — done,
pa6oxa, Koxopoio cji*-
;^0BaJIO saHHMaxbca;
there is no describing
it but, onncaxB sxo
MOffiHO xoJiBKo; there
was nothing to — seen,
HHiero He Sbijo BHf(HO;
they were to tell, oat
flOJiffiHBi 6bijih cKasaxBj
to — off, yGnpaxBca
ySxH; we are to dine,
MH fl;oJifflHBi o6'fe;^axB;
who was sitting, kxo
CHfttJl.?
beach, MopcKoB eeper'B.
beam, CpycL, 6peBHo,
tawcb, jiyq-B; on her
— ends, CTofiKOMT. na
6hmc*, Ha 6oKy; to — ,
HcnycKaxB ayHH.
bear, Me/i;B*RB.
bear, hochtb, npHHocnTb,
BBiAepatHBaxB, nHxaxbj
to— an aspect, hm^xb
BHft-B J to — a distinguish-
ed part, nrpaxB Baat-
Hyio pojB; to — an ill
will, HseaaxB KOMy sjia;
to — a likeness, to— re-
semblance , nOXOAHTB
na} to — a ratio to,
HM'feXB pa3M'fepTi OXHO-
CHxejiBHO) to— regard,
OKasBiBaxB yBaHtenie;
to — away, yHOCHXB,
BBiHrpBiBaxB.nojiyqaxB.
npioSptxaxBj to —
down,' HecxHCB, cny-
CKaxBca; to — over, ne-
peHOCHXB, nepeBO/^HTB
beard, 6opo;i;a.
bearer, HocHjrbmHKT.; cm.
xaKate sedar-bearer.
■bearing, noBe;i;eHie, m*-
cxonojiOHteHie, HanpaB-
jteaie, nejteHri., «Hry-
pa Bt mnx'fe} armoreal
— s, repfioBBi.T 4HrypH.
beast, SBtpB, HIHBOXHOe.
beat , HSBtcxHoe npo-
cxpaHcxBO, onpcAtJieH-
Hoe Hap;3opy ^effiypHaro
noJiHCMeaa; to — , 6hxb,
SaxBca, noStffiA^TB, 06-
CtHtaxB) to— about,Jia-
BnpoBaxb.
beaten, cm. beat.
beating, no6oH; was sure
of a — , MOrt 6bixb yni-
pcHi. , Hxo ero no-
Sbioxt.) him that you talk
of-, xox-B, Koxoparo
335
Bu co6HpaeTecfc no-
Chtb; — of the surf, npH-
6oH 6ypyHa.
beautiful, npcKpacHwa,
KpaCHBUS, HSHlUHblfi;
— girl , KpacaBHi^a,
KpacoTKa.
beauty, Kpacoia.
beaver, 6o6poBaH uwana.
became, cu. become.
because, noroMyiTO;— of,
pa^H.
become, c^^tJiaTbca; what
became of him,' ^to cb
HHM'b Cft'bJiaJIOCb?
bed, nocTCJib, KpoBaxb;
to go to — , JioatHTBca
cnaTbj — chamber, —
room, cnajbHH) — clo-
thes, ORl&HJIO, npocTbi-
HH} — ding, nocxejib-
HbiS npH6op'b5 — room
window, OKHO cnajibHH.
bee, nnejia.
beech, CyKi., 6yK0BbiS.
beef, roBHAHHa.
been, cm. be.
beer, naBo; table — , cto-
jOBoe HHBOj —money,
ReHbrH Ha nnBO.
befall, .caynaTbCH.
before,npefflRe, paH*e,/;o,
npeat?;e HeseaH, nepeR-b,
nepeRT. t^mt., BaepeRT.;
from — , oTtM^cra Bne-
psAH) —hand, BnepeflHj
to be— hand with any
one, onepeAHTb Koro.
beg, npocHTb , npocHXb
MHJiocTbiHio; I — yonr
pardon, HSBnHHTe; to —
assistance, npocHTb no-
MOIAH.
began, cm. begin.
beget, nopaatAaTb^ npa-
HHHHTb.
beggar, nnmig; — ly, hh-
meHCKiS,
begging friar.HnineHCTByro-
miS MOHax-b.
begin, HaHHHaTb;— ning,
Hanajio.
begotten, cm. beget,
beguile, oSojbmaTb, npo-
BORHTb, o6jieriaTb^ co-
KpamaTb.
begun, CM. begin.
behalf, noJibsa; in — of,
on — of, BTb nojibsy
Hero.
behave, bccth ce6a,
behaviour, nOBeftenie.
behead, 06e3rjiaBJiHBaTb,
OTClfeKaTb roJiOBy.
beheld, cm. behold.
behind, nosasH.aajto leave
— , ocTaBjiaxb.
behold, cMoxpiTb, yBn-
fltTb, BHAtTbj — er, 3pH-
Tejlb.
being, cyn^ecxBO.
Belgian, Bejbriei^-b,
Belgium, Bejbria.
belief, B*pa, B'tpoBanie.
believe, B^pnTb , Btpo-
BaTb , nojiaraxb , ^y-
Maxbj — r, B^pyiomiM.
bell, KOJOKOJUi , KOJIO-
KOJbHHKTi.
bellow, MHiaXb, pCB^Xb
bellows, Mlxt.
belong, npHHaftJieffiaxb.
beloved, jnaSaMbiS, bos-
jiio6jieHHHS.
below, noA-b, HHHte, bhh-
sy; to go — , HRXH
BHHST..
belt, noacbj to — , onoa-
cbiBaxb , nepenoHCbi-
Baxb.
bench, CKaMefiita, sac*-
ffaxejiHj — of justice,
cyRHJiHiqe, cy/^t , cy-
ffeSnoe M'fecxo.
bend, HarH6axb, Haxara-
THBaxb (jiyK-b), HaRJo-
Haxbca, npHKaoHaxb
(KOJtHH); to — down,
coKpymaxb, nopajKaxbj
to — over, neperH6axbCfl.
beneath, no/cb.
benefactor, 6Ja^o;^'6xeJIb.
benefice, RyxoBHoe Mtcxo.
beneficial, OjiaroxBopHHft,
nojesHbifi.
benefit, 6jiaroR'feaHie, Bbi-
roAa, nojibsa, npaSburbj
to — , npHHOCHXb nojihsj.
benevolence , S^aroAt-
xeJibHOCxb, 6jiaroxB0-
pHXeJIbHOCXb.
benevolent, 6;iaroR'fixeab-
HBift, GjiaroxBopHxejib-
HblS.
Bengal, BeHrajtlflj Ben-
ra;ibCKifi.
bent, cKjoHHbiS, pacno-
jioHteHHbia} CM. bend;
to be— on, nacxoaxb,
xox'fexb HenpeMtHHO.
bequeath, oxRaaaxB, sa-
Btmaxb.
bereave, jHmaxb lero.
bereft, cm. bereave.
berry, arosa.
beset, ocaatAaxb, OKpy-
ffiaxb, 6e3noKOHBaib,
CMymaxb.
beside, noAa*; — him-
self, BH* ce6a.
besides, cBepxt, KpoMt,
CBepx-b xoro.
besiege, ocaatffaTb.
bespeak, npeRB^maxb, no-
KaSblBaXb.
besprinkle, OKponjaxb.
best, caMbiS jiynraiS, na-
HJiyimifij jiyinie, nan-
jryHraHMt oOpaaoMt;
at — ,noJiyHmeMy;I will
do the — I can, acs*-
aaio Bce Hxo Moryj to
make the — of one's
way nocataiaxb.
— 336 --
bestain, sanaTHUBaTt^sa-
MapMBaTB,
testOW, ffaBaxb, ^apHTB;
to — on,HajioBaTb icoMy,
noflaBaxB} to — one's
self on, Bblxo;^HTb 3a
Myffii. 3a.
bet, saKJia/!.!); to — , Ohtb-
ea oSi. saKJiafl-B, A^p-
ffiaxb napH.
betide, cjiynaTbca, npa-
Kjno'iaxbca.
betray, nepe^aBaxb, H3-
MtHaXb , OXKpblBaXb,
o6HapyjKHBaxb, noKa-
SblBaXb,
better, Jiyimift, Jiygme.
Betty, EjiHcaBexa.
between, betwixt, neat-
Ay, nponeHAy-
beverage, nBxbejHannxOK'b.
bewail, cixoaaxb 0 leMT.,
onjiaKHBaxb, soniaxb.
beyond, no xy cxopoHy,
3a, CEepxt, Bbime.
Bible, iSnSjiia.
biblical, 6H6;ieMcid2.
bid, BCJltTb, npHKa3H-
Baxb; to — farewell npo-
iqaxbca cb KiMt; to —
any one a good-mor-
row, noHtejiaxb KOMy
ftoSparo yxpa;tlie high-
est — der, cyjiainiM
■ CoJihme Bcixij sa hxo
J[h6o , npsAJiaraiomiM
BHcmyio u('feHy 3a hxo,
big, 6ojibmofi, oOuiHpHbiS.
bight, Syxxa (y KaHaxa).
bigoted, HsyBtpHbiS, ny-
cxocBaxbiu, JiHi^eii'fep-
bill, oS-baBJceHie, seKceJib,
csiexTj, nposKXT), npeA-
Ji0Htenie^3aK0Hi>,6Hjjtb;
Exclusion — , HpeA-
joatcHie o5i. Hckjio-
Henin.
billet, noatHo.
billow, BOJiHa.
bind, BfiiKa} to — _, Ba-
saxb, oSBasbiBaxb, oSa-
3MBaxb} to — toge-
ther, CBa3biBaxb, coe-
AHHaxb.
biography, atnsHeonHca-
Hie, 6iorpa*ia.
bird, nTHii,a.
birth, poffiAeaie, poacAe-
cxBO, npoHCxoafACHie,
nojiO/Keaie; — day, ashb
poffiASHia; — place, m£-
cxopoffiAeHia^poAHHa; —
right, npaBO pojEAenia.
biscuit, cyxapb.
bishop, enncKon'b; — ric,
eniicKoncxBO'.
bit , Kycos[eKi> , MyHA-
luxyKT,; a— of a breeze,
Jierida BtxepoKt.
bitter, ropbKiS,}KecxoKiS,
HenpHMnpHMbifl (_o Bpa-
atA*); — ly, ropbKO.
black, MepHuS n;B'£T'b,
HerpiijHepHbifi; — beard
ed, cb HepaoH) 6opo-
AoM; — smith, Kysaei^i).
blade, kjihhoki..
blame, nopimaxb, Bannxb
blanket, oAtajio noKpu-
Bajio.
blast, Bfixepi., nopbiBt,
SByKt, XOHTi.
blaze, nbuij, njiama, cia-
Hie, GjiecK'ij to — , nbi-
Jiaxb, njiaMCHixb; to —
forth^ BocnjiaiieHaxbca,
Bocnajiaxbca.
bleak, Oa-feAHbifi, xo^oa-
HblH, OXKpuXblfi.
bled, CM. bleed.
bleed, KpoBH leib, oiSjin-
Baxbca itpoKiiO; to — to
death, Haoiixii Kposiio,
yjiepexb oxx. cajibaaro
KpoBOxeieaiaj — ing,
H3JHBaion^iSca KpoBiio.
blend, ciHBaxbca, CMtiuH:
Baxbca.
bless, 6.![arocjiOBJiaTb; —
ed , SjiarocjioBeHHbifl ,
CjiaaceHHbiS; — ing, 6ja-
rocaoBeaie, SjaroAaxb.
blest, CM. bless.
blew, CM. blow.
blind, mxopa; cjiinofi.
blithely, Becejio, paAocx-
HO.
block, KycoK-b HeoOAtJiaH-
HbiS; — head, SojiBaax.)
— house, KptuocD,a,
O-TOKraysT.; to— up, 3a-
Al5JibiBaxb, sannpaxb,
saropaacHBaxb , npe -
rpaatA^'Tb.
blockade , 6jioKHpoBaxb,
o5jiO/KHXb GjOKaAoio.
blood, KpoBb, xpaOpei^Tj,
meroab; — shed, KpoBO-
upojmxie; — y, OKpoBaa-
jieHHbifl, KpoBonpoAax-
Hblfl.
blow, yAapi>, TOJiiCKT.;
at one — , oahhm-b yAa-
poMt; to — , AyTb, paa-
AyBaxb, nrpaxb aa, xpy-
Shxb, AaBaxb(cHrHai'b)}
to — in, BWJiaMbiBaxb,
BbiuinSaxb; to — off, CAy-
Baxb; to — out, 3aAy-
Baxbj to — up, Bspu-
Baxb , noAHHMaxb Ha
B03Ayx;'b:to— upon,Hep-
HHXb.
blue, rojiyGofi i^Btx'b, ch-
Hiil jmBixT.^ CHHiS, -ro-
jiy6ofi.
blunder, oniHSKa.
blunderbuss, MyuiKexoai.
blunt, cypoBHii, rpySbiS,
aeyixuBbiS, aeyKjiiOffliii.
blush, KpacKa Ha ji hi;*.
boar, SopOBT., KaGaa-b,
337 —
board, SopTT. ctoji-b} on—,
on— the ship, Ha cy^H*,
Ha cyAHo; over — , sa
CopTT), 3a SopTOMTjiNa-
vy — , AAjMnpajiTeficTBij-
CoBiTTi; -of Control,
KOHTpoJihHaa najaTa.
boast, xBacTanie, xBa-
CTOBCTBO, cjiaBa, rop-
;^0CTb} to — , xBacxaxb,
XBacxaTbCH, xbujihts,
BHXEaJiaTb.
boat, JiORKa, iiutonica,
cyaHO} jiOAOiHbiS) — ac-
tion jCpaatcHie Ha JiOA"
Kax-b; — man, jio^oh-
HiiK'B,rpe6eu'b,MaTpoct..
Bob, CM. Robert.
bode, npeAB^maTb, npCA-
SHaMGHOBaTb.
Bodleian, BoAJreRcidil.
body, TiJio, TyjioBHine,
Tpymb, oco6a, mho-
HtecTBO, Macca, Kyna^
TOJina, o6mecTBO, co-
ciOBie; — gnard, TtJio-
xpaHHTejhjin a — .bm-s-
CTt, BC* BM'feCT'fe; — of
troops, OTpHATiBOWCKa.
bog, 60J10T0.
Bohemia, BorewiH.
boil, BapHTb, KHnt,Tb,
KnnHTBTb, 6HTb BBepx-b
BJIIOHeM-b^tO — up, BCKH-
naTb; — eddown, BWBa-
peHbiS; — er, kotcjuj;
— ing, KHntHie.
boisterous, SyHHwa.
bold, cia1i.ibiS, OTPamHbiS*
KpyxoS; — ly, cM'fejto;
— ness, CMlijiocTbj ot-
BamHOCTb.
bomb proof, HenpoHiin;ae-
MbiM SojiSaMH.
bombard, oosiSapjnpoBaTb
Bombay, BoMoeft ; Bom-
SeficKifi.
bandage, nesojin, paocxBO
bondsman, KptnocTHofi.
bone, KocTb.
bonnet, manKa.
b0ny,KOCTaHOii;KOCTHCTbl8,
book, KHHra.
boom, JiHceJib - cnapTt,
rnm..
boon, 6j[aroAt>HHie, mh-
jiocTb, noAapoKTj.
boot, canor-b.
bootless, 5c3nojie3Hbift.
booty, Aoowqa.
border, norpaHHTHan bcm-
jifl, rpanHi^a; to — upon,
rpaHttHHTb, 6biTb cMeffi-
HblM-b Cb HtMlj,
bore, CBep.iHTb flbipy; cm.
xaKa^e bear.
born , pojKAGHHbiS; to
be — , poAiiTbCH) high
— , 3HaTHaro npoHC-
xoffiAenia; well — ,6jia-
ropoAHbifi.
borne, cm. bear.
borough, MtiCTeHKOjnocaATj.
borrow, sanHMaxb, Spaxb
BT, satiMbi.
bosom, rpy;];b, cepAi^e.
Botany-Bay, BoTaHH-5efi.
both, o6a, oSi, xo H Apy-
roe; — and, 11 . . .' n,
KHK1. . . . Tattt H.
bother, orjiymaxb, naAcB-
Aaxb,
bottle, Sytbi.TKa;— neck,
ropjo (y 6yxbi.iKH).
bottom, AHO, rjiy6nHa,
HMj-b, HcnoAt; to be at
the — of any thing, Sbixb
no5yAHxe.iibHOio npH4H-
Hoft Mcmy.
bough, cytci,, cyieifB.
bought, CM. buy.
bound, cm. bind; ckokt>,
CKaHertT.; to — ,npbiraxb,
CKaKaxb, orpamriHTb,
rpaHHHHXb; to b':; — ,
6wxb oGaaaHHMMT.; —
for, HaSHaqeHHbiK, ot-
iipaEJiaiomiMcH b^; to —
along, iiocKaKaxb; —
ary, npeAtJii.} — less,
CesnpeA^JibHbiM; — s,
npeA'feJibi.
bounty, mcApocxb, mes-
poxa, QjaroxBopHxejb-
HOCXb.
bouse out, BbiABHraxb
(nyuiity).
bow, nuKJiOHT,, JiyK-b,
apvaKT. (y cfiAJa), ko-
paoeJbHbiS HOCb, CKy-
jia; long — , jryKTi} the
best — er anchor, HKOpb
njiexxtj-^man, cxp'fi-
jeu,!!} — sprit, 6yui-
npHXTj.
bowl, lauia.
bowls, Hrpa B-b KerjtH,
KerejibHaa nrpa.
box, amHKT,, jrapqnK-b,
KpyHSKa, MtCXO, K03JIbI.
boy, MajIbHHEli5pe6eHOK1>J
— hood, oxpo4ecxBo.
boyar, SoapHH-b.
brace, noAxastita; to — ,
cxarHBaxb; — let, 6pac-
. Jiexi., 3apyKaBbe, Ha-
nacxbe, wapy^eHb.
Brahminism, BpaMHHCKoe
HcnoBiAaHie.
brain, M03ri>.
brake, KycxupHnK-i; cm.
xaicHce break,
branch, cyitii, b^xeb,
OTpacJib.
brandy, Boflita.
brdSS, JKejixaH M'feAi') Jia-
xyHb, KpucHaa M'feAi>;
M-fiAHblM.
bravado, xBacxoBcxBo,
HBaHCXBO.
brave, xpaSpbifi, SospwH,
cjiaBHbiM; to — , npe3H-
paxb, He cxpaiuHXbca;
43
3B8 -
— ly, xpa6po; — ry,
xpaSpocTb.
brawl,ropjiaHHTb,!KypHaTB,
brawny, MHoiKOBaTHS,
flioatifi.
bray, peBiTb.
Brazil, the Brazils, Epa-
SHJiifl.
breach, npojoM-b, npe-
pMBaHie, Hapymenie} —
of faith, BtpojioucTBO.
bread, xjiiCi., nponHTa-
Hie , npoKopMjieHie j
brown— (HepHbiH x atg-b;
— and butter, xjitg'B
ct Macjioii-b.
breadth, miipHHa.
break, JiOMaxb, nepeaa-
MbiBaxb, jfOMaTbca, 5HTb
HJiH y;;apaTb (o boji-
nax-b), npopbiBaxb, co-
KpyiuaTb, cOKpymaxb-
Cfl; to — a spear, SHTbCfl
Ch KtHt Ha K0IlbaX1>}
to — down, cjEaMbiBaxb;
to — fast, saBxpaKaxbj
to — in, BpMBaxbCH; to
— in a horse, BbitsiKH-
Baib jiomanbj to — loose,
OCBOSOHtAE^TbCfl ; to —
off, oxjiaMbiBaxb, npe-
Kpamaxb, npepuBaxb;
to — out, HaHHHaXbCK,
BcubixHBaxb, saropaxb-
CHj to— out in, Bbipa-
ffiaxb, pascbinaxbca b'b
HQWb 0 K0Mi>; to — the
way, ;^aBaxb hjh ycxy-
naTb ;^opory, CBopa^n-
Baxbjto — upon, npepw-
Baxb, BpbiBaxbCfl; to be
broken in the spirit, co-
Kpymaxbca 0HeM'b,6bixb
^p^Be;^eHHbIM'BB'ByHbI-
Hie;— ers.SypyH-bjnpii-
6oh; — fast, saBxpaicb
(yxpeHnift -MaM hjiu ko-
fl'e)j — of day,pa3CB'fiT'b.
breast, rpy^b, cep/i;i^e,
ynopHaa noRyruKa (y
opyftia)} — high, Bbimn-
HOH) ;^o rpyAH.
breath, Abixanie; to be
out of — , Baubixaxbca,
ycxaBaxb; to hang on
a — , BHCfeXb Ha BOJIOC-
Ktjto — e, ffbiraaxb ^iMx,
bred, cm. breed, well—,
6jiaroB0cnHxaHHbiS.
breed, nopo;;a^ pasBC/ie-
Hie (atHBuxHbixTj); to
— , iiopaH;;;axb, npoHS-
Bo;;HXb, BOcnaxbiBaxb;
— of horses, pasBe^e-
Hie j[omafl,eH, KOHosa-
BOACTBo; — ing, bocuh-
xaaie, noBefteHie; good
— ing, BtKJIHBOCTb.
breeze, BtxepoK'B.
brethren, cm. brother.
brew, Bapnxb (uEBo).
brick, KHpUHITj; KHpUHH-
HbiS; — layer, KaMeHinnKi>
bride, HeBtcxa; — groom,
meHvix-h.
bridge, mocx-b.
bridle, ys^a; to hold her
— rein, ftepataxb 3a ea
noBOAa} to — , B3Hy3-
AbiBaxb.
brigade, 6pH^a;^a.
bright, apKiS, CB'fixjibift,
ciaiou^iii, JiocHHCXbiu; to
— en, CB'fixj'fexb 5 —
ness, fijiecicb, cianie.
brilliant, SjncxaxejibHbifi,
Sjiecxamifl; — ly, bbjih-
KOJI'finHO.
briin,Kpaft,nojie(y uijianw).
brindle, necTpnua, pa6b.
bring, npuHOcnxb, npnBo-
RHTb, npHB03HXb; to —
back, B03Bpamaxb;to —
dovvn,CHOcnxb, jiOBHXb,
nofiMaxb; to— in, bho-
CHXb; to — intelligence,
yB'fejoMjraTtjHSB'tmaTt;
to — into, BBORHxb; to
— intoforce,B03'bHM'fexb
CHJiy HjiH ;^'feScxBie5 ^'^
— into judgment, npo-
H3B0j(HXb cya^b Hajt
KtM-Bj to — into one's
power, 3aBJiaa'hxb KiMt;
to — on or upon, naBO-
AHXb, npHiHHaxbj to —
out, BblHOCHXb, BMBO-
3;iixb;to — over, nepeao-
CHXb, nepcBOSHXb, npn-
HOCHXb Ch co6oK), nepe-
BHJiHBaxb; to— succour,
noftaBaxb noMomb} to —
to,AOBoaHXb;^o, nepcBO-
30Xb, OXBOBHXbB'b; tO —
to do, sacxaBHXb /t*-
Jiaxb; to — together, co-
eapaxb) to — to pass,
coBepmaxb; to — up,
BOcnnxHBaxb; to — up
the rear, 6bixb apiep-
rapROM-b) to — upon.Ha-
BJieKaxb, he succeded in
—ing up the watch, eMy
y^ujiocb ;;ocxaxb HacH.
brinish, cojioHOBaxHfi.
brink, npafi.
briskly , 6offpo , hshbo,
npoBopHo ; when the
glass had gone — about,
Kor3,a OHH ^opa/^o'^HO
HaUHJlHCb BHHa.
bristly, mexHHOBaxuft,
Bristol, Bpncxojb; Bpa-
CTOJIbCKifi.
•Britain, BpnxaHia; Great
— , BejiBKoSpHxaHia.
Britany, Brittany, Bpe-
xaHb (bo $paH^iH).
British, 6pHTaHCKifi} the
— , BpnraHi^bi.
Briton, BpHxanei^'b.
broach, 6pomKa} to — ,
noHHHaxb (Ooiicy).
broad, mnpoKiS, oSoiHp-
I
339 -
K
hk8, rpyCuS, HecicpoM-
HB18; mnpHHOio; in —
day light, cpeAH 6*-
Jiaro ;5hh; — side, njia-
Bapjit,
brocoli, 6poKOJib.
broiling of the sun, coji-
HeqHuH. HsapTb.
broke, cm. break,
broken, cm. break.
brook, pyieft pyqceKt.
brother, Spaxij, xoBa- •
pnin'B; we had been —
officers , MM BM'feCT'fe
cjiyjKHJiH o*HinepaMHj —
ly, 6paTCEiM.
brought, CM. bring.
brow, SpoBb, JioSt; with
the sweat of one's — ,
BT. nOTt JiHi^a CBoero.
brown, 6ypHt5;—ish, CMy-
TJiOBaTbiHj — red, 6ypo-
KpaCHWfi, TCMHOKpaC-
Hblfi.
bruise, yuiHSaTb.
Brunswick, Bp ay HuiBefirTj.
brush, 10CTHTB U;eTKOIO,
noM^aTbCii , npoSa-
paTbca.
brutal, sBtpcKifi, CKOT-
CKiSj — ly, BCCbMa rpy-
60, JKeCTOKO.
brute, SBipb, CKOTt, CKO-
THHa.
bubble, nyswpb} to blow
— s out of soap, ny-
CKaTb MBiJibHwe nysbi
pn; to — , BCKHnaTb,
sypqaTb. •
buck, KOcyjiH.
bucket, BBApo.
buckle, npaatKa } to — ,
/ipaxbCH, 6HTBca.
bud, noHKa.
buffoon, uiyT-B.
bugle, bugle-horn , po-
ffieKt Cb KjianaHaMH.
build, CTpOHTb, OCHOBbl-
uaTb) — er, CTpoHxejibj
— ing, nocTpoMKa,CTpoe
Hie, SAanie.
built, CM. build,
bull, CbiKT., 6yjiJia, nan-
CKaa rpaMMaxa.
bullet, nyjra.
bully, xpaSpei^T., SyHHT,.
bulwark, ohjiot-b, orpaAa.
bump , KOJioTHTb , y^a-
paTb, 6yxaTb.
bundle, CBasKa, nyieKii.
bungalow, cojomoio kpm-
TbiS aomtj (b-b HhaIh).
buoy, 6aKeHt^ 'TOMSyfi,
6yft.
burden, rpys-B, TajKecTb,
BM^CTHMOCTb , HOina ,
OpeMa.
burgess, M'feinaHHH'b, lan-
me AenyTaTT. M-feCTeiKa
(btj AHrjiin),
Burgundy, BypryHAla.
burial-place, Mtcxo no-
rpeSenia.
burly, AioffiiW, AopoAHbiS.
Burmese, BHpMaHcidM.
burU) catnraTb, roptTb,
cropaxb; to — down,
cffinraTb,cropaTb; — ing,
najiamiS, shoShmS.
burnt, CM. burn; a hole
— in the floor, OTBep-
CTie, nporoptBuiee bi>
nojry.
burst, paspbiBaxbca, nepe-
jtaMbiBaxbca; to — forth,
npopwBaTbca , bhxo-
AHTbj to — into, Bpbi-
Baxbca, BTOpraxbca;' to
—into tears, sanjiaKaTb;
to — out, BbipbiBaxbca,
TpecBaTbca, Jtonaxbca.
bury, sapBiBaxb , noxo-
poHaTb, norpeSaxB.
bush, Kycx-B.
busily, saSoTjiiiBo, a'^^-
xejiBHO.
business, sanaxie, xop-
roBJia, psMecjiOj Mac-
xepcxBO, A'fe'Ho, A*'"*'
oSasaHHOcxB ; I went
to my—, a cxaj-b sa-
HHMaxbca A'fe-TaMH; to
make a good — of it,
xopoiuo oSAtJIBIBaXB
CBOH At.ia.
bust, eiocx-B.
bustle, xjionoTBi, cyMa-
xoxa, BOjiHeHie; to — ,
xjtonoxaxb, aaSoxHXbca.
busy, A*axejibHbifi, xpy-
A0JII06HBBlfi, myMJHBBlS.
but, HO, XOJIbKO, KpOM'6,
ecjiH 6bi He; nothing
— , xojibKo; — for, ecj[H6'b
He 6bijio; — just, xojib-
Ko Hxo; — that he was
very glad to accept,
Hxo8u He npHHaxB cb
paAOcxiiO; not knowing
— that there might
be . . . ashore, ne sHaa
He 6yAex'B jih na 6e-
pery; there was not
a soul — felt. He 6Bijro
HH oAHoft AyniH, koxo-
paa 6bi ne noqyBcxBO*
BaJia.
butcher, MacHHKi.; to—,
y6HBaxB, saplbSBiBaxB.
butler, KejiBHep-B, no-
rpeSn^HK-B.
butt , i^tJiB , npeAMexT>
(nacMtinKH); — end, xo-
pen;!!, KOHeAX}.
butter, Macjo (KopoBbe).
button, nyrOBHri;a.
buy, KynnxB, noKynaxB.
buz, asyacasaxB.
by, C'B, CO, noAJii, y,
nocpeAcxBOMT. , mhmo,
Kt, nepesT), no, boa's,
3a, (osHaHaexx. xaKate
xBOp. naAeffiTj); — all
means , nenpeMtHHO;
340 —
—and by, yiKe, CKOpo;
— one's self, osnH-b,
caM-b) —the light, npH
CBtT*; — the road, Ha
aoport; — this time, Kt
sTOiiyBpeiieHH; — what,
— which, HtiiT).
byroad, bye-road, npoce-
■lOHHaa Aopora.
byword, nocioBHu,a, no*
roBopKa^
€.
cab, nSBomnqia KaGpio-
aex-b; — driver, hsbo-
IUHKT..
cabaret, mimoKt, KaSaK-b
cabbage, Kanycxa;— leaf,
EanycTHufi vThctT).
cabin, snatnaa, majiam-b,
KaiOTa; — door, ABepb
KaioTM; — et, KaSHHext;
— et timber, sepeBO ;^Jifl
CTOJIHpHOS paSOTBI.
cable, EaHaxt.
cacao, KaKao.
Cadiz, KasHKCT,.
Caesar, llecapb.
Caffre, Ka^p-b.
cage, KjitxKa.
cake, k3kctj, nupoffiHoe.
calculate, HciHcjiflxb.pas-
cinxunaxb; he wasbet-
• ter — djOHTj 6bijn> 5oJite
cnocoGeH-b; — d to, cjy-
ffiamiii KT) xoiiy,4xo5bi...
calcalation, BbmucjieHie,
pascnexTj.
Caledonian, Kajie;;OHa-
HIIH-b.
calendrer, Kaxajibn^HK-b,
jtomnjibmnK-b.
calf, xejienoK-b.
call, npilSblB-b; to — ,3BaXb.
HaasiBaxb, KpuHaxb.npH-
suBaxb, cosbiBaxb, sa-
xuAHTb, satsataxb; to —
away, OTSbiBaxb; to —
fire, 3Baxb na noaapij;
to — for, cnpaoiHeaxb,
TpeSoBatb; to — for
help, 36axb Ha noMOUnb;
to — forth, BbisuBaxb;
to— from, to— off, ox-
BbiBaxb; to — on, Bbi-
SbiBaxb, saxoflQTb; to
— out, 3aKpH4aXb, BOC-
EJ[Hmaxb;to — over.npH-
SblBaXb; to — to, KJIH-
Kaxb, saKpHHaxb, to —
to account, xpeSoBaxb
oxrb Koro oxTexa; to —
together, cosbiBaxb-, —
ing,^^0J^;H0cxb peaiecjio
calm, xHiunsa, cnoKofi-
CTBie, mxnjb ; cno-
KoftHHii, xHxifi: to — ,
ycaoKOHBaxb; — ly,cno-
KotiHo; — ness, cno
KoilHOCXb ) a man of
great — ness, nejioB'feK'b
cii 5ojibmiiM'b cnoKofi-
cxBieMT. Kyxa.
Calmuc, Ka.TMbiK'b.
came, cm. come-
camp, Jiarepb; life of— s,
jiarepHaaHJiH noxoj^Haa
ffiusHbj — aignjuoxofft,
KaMnaHifl.
can, itpyatKa.
can, Mory; I cannotCcoKp.
can't), H He Jioryjnpoui.
BpejiH I could, fl iior-b.
Canada, KanaAa.
Canadian, KaHaaei^-b.
canal, uaHajt.
canary, KanapcKoe BiiHo.
candid, 4ucTocepfleHnbiS,
0XKp0BeHHbl8, HCKpeH-
Hift,
candidate, KaR^n/tax-b.
candle, cBtna, cBt'iKa;
— stick, no;\CBli4HiiKi..
cane, KaMHimj, xpocxb,
sugar — , caxapHbiS
XpOCXHHKt.
canine, eoGaiiS.
cannibal, EaHnnSaJi'b, jio-
3,ot;^^>•, jiioxbiS, ■ secxo-
Kift, CesiejiOB'feHHbiS.
cannon, nytuKa-, - opyAie,
nyiiiKH.
canoe, joana.
canonicals, oSjiaienie
(uepKOBHoe).
can't, CM can
cantonments, KaaTOHapT.-
KEOpxapbl.
canvass, napyonna, na-
pycb.
canzonet, ntceHbKa.
cap, nianna, ^ypaiKKa.
Capable, cnocoSHMfi, bt.
cocxohhIh; nothing was
— , HHiero He MOr.io.
capacity, cnocofiHocxb,
EanecxBO.
caparison, noKpHsaxb na-
opaKOMt, Hapasaxb.
cape, Mbicb.
the Cape Coast, Kam.-
KocT^; —Colony, Kan
CKaa 3eMJia; the— Verd
Islands, ocxpoaa 3e-
jenaro Mbica.
capital, cxojHE(a, KanH-
xajfb, Kannxejib; cjiaB-
HbiS, oxjnqHbiB.
Capitulation,T(anHxyJiflAia.
caplin, Kanjaat.
capricious, cBoeHpaBHwS,
npiinyAJinBbiS, Kanpii3-
Hbiii.
capsize onpoKnjbiBaxTj.
captain, Haqa.TbHnK'b. noa-
KOBOAd^Tj, EannxaHT.,
micanep-b, KOMCHAopi)
(y opyjifl); —of a gang
of robbers. npe^BOAH-
icjib pa30oiiHa4befl luafi-
— 341
KH, pa36oMHiiHifi ara-
UaHTj.
captive, na'^mm^-b} njita-
HW8.
captivity, njitHt.
capture, BsaTie; to — ,
6paTb, nepexBaTBiBaTb.
car, noBOSKa, KOJiecHHi(a.
Carausius, KapaBaifi.
caravan, KapaBan-b.
carbine, Kapa6nHi..
carbonate, yrjieKHCJiuii.
carcass, ocTaai., Tpyn^.
card, Kapxa.
cardinal, KapAHHajn.jrjiaB-
HblS.
care, saSoTa, noneHeHie^
cxapaflie , BHHMaHie,
Tmanie; to be in the — ,
HaxoRHTbCfl noATj npH-
CMOTpoMTjj to — about,
to — for, nemHCb, sa-
CoTHTbca 0 hcmtj; I —
not for, MHt A'fe-ia Hixt;
learning was little— d
for, oGij y>3eHiH Majro
saSoTHjiHCb; whom Eu-
ropeans— d not to med-
dle with, Cb KOTOpUMH
EsponeMitu He xot*j[h
HMtTb A'fe'iia; he would
not — to sell them for
less than, hto on-b ne
MOHteX'b BSHTb Sa HHXTj
MCH'fee; — fuljTmaxejb-
HbiH, 5epeffijinBbifl, oc-
TopoiKHbiMj to be —
ful of, Sa60THTbCJI,
ne4bCH 0 HeMT,;— fully,
TmarejbHo; —less, 5e3-
3a60THH8, HeocTopoiK-
HbiB; — lessly, He5pe>K-
HO, HCOcTopoHSHO; for
myself I am -less, o
caMOMTj ceS'fe a ne xjio-
noiy, He saQoiycb.
career, nonpame, Kapbepa
caress, jtucKaj to— ^ jiac-
Kaxb.
cargo, rpyst, KjiaAb.
caricature, KapHitaxypa.
carnival, KapHaBajn),Mac-
jiflHHua.
carol, ntxt, BoentBaxb.
carouse, nnpoEaxb.
carpenter, hjioxhhktj, thm-
MepMBHl).
carpet, itoBepi..
carriage, noBosKa, Kape-
xa, SKHnaKT); — way,
npotajKaa ;i;opora.
carrier, HSBon^HK-b.
carrot, mopKOBb.
carry, Hocuxb , BOAHXb,
BOSHxb , nepenocHxb,
nepeB03HXb, nepewo-
raxb, npeoAOJitBaxb, bo-
B-ieKaxb; a cry calcu-
lated to — a distance,
KpHKt KOXOpuS MOat-
HoSi) 6biJio cjibiinaxbHa
60JIbmOM'b paSCXOHHlH)
to— about one, Hocnxb
Ha ce6t; to — against,
oxcxaHsaxb npoxHst;
to — along, yHOCHXbjto
— away,CHOC0xb;to — in
BHOCHTb, npuHOCHXb; to
— into effect, npuBOAnxb
btj HcnoJiHeHie; to —
. devastation into, npe-
^asaxb onycxouieniiojto
— off, CHecxH, yBOSHXb,
ySHBaxbj to — on]* npo-
HSBOAHXb, npoAOJrasaxb;
to — on correspondence,
BecxH nepenucKy; to —
one's point, ftocxnraxb
CBoeft i;'feJiH; to — out,
BWB03HTb; to — over,
nepeBOSHTb; to — any
one to one's side, ckjio-
Haxb Koro Ha cboio cxo-
pony; to — to the high-
est pitch, ^OBOAHXb JO
Bbicuiefi cxeneHH.
cart, xej'hra, eostj) — er,
cartridge, naxpoH't, Kap-
xyaii.
cascade, BOflonaATj, Kac'
Ka/i;a.
case, CJiynaS, uojojKeHie,
oCcxoflxejibCXBO , Koa
qani., tyxjiap-b, amiHRt,
jtapqHKTj-, to be the — ,
cjiynaxbca, *6bixb xaKt;
which was the com-
mon — , 1X0 06bIKH0-
BCHHO cjiyiajiocb hjih
6biBajio; his own—,
Hxo SbiBaexTi ct. hhm'b
canHM-b.
cash,Ha;iHHHbia jeHbrH.
cask, 6oqKa, SoneHOKT..
casket, mnaxyjiKa, Jiap-
HMK-b.
cassock, paca.
cast of thought, ofipasT.
MbicieM; to — , KHsaxb,
Spocaxb; to — a stain,
sanaxHbiBaxbjto— away,
BbiSpacbiBaxb (Ha 6e-
perij), npexepntBaxb
Kpyaienie; to— down,
norynjiaxb (rjia3a); to
— off, cBpacbiBaxb, ckh-
RbiBaxb; to — one's eyes
on, BBrjajbiBaxb na;
to— up, cqnxaxb, bu-
KjaAbiaaxb.
castaway, H3Bepr'b, no-
KHHyTblfi.
caste, Kacxa.
castle, saMOK-b; — wall,
saMKOBaa cxtna.
casual, cjiyHaSHbiH; — ly
cjiyqaHHO.
cat, KOUiKa.
cataract, BOflona/!.!., na-
flynij.
342
catastrophe , hcoSbikho-
BCHHoe npiiKjiio'ieHie.
catch, JIOBHTb, nofiMaTb,
saxBaTUBaTb, 3a;^'feBaTb;
to— at, xBaxaTbcfl sa
«JT03 to — hold of, cxBa-
THBaTfcqxo, xBaTaTbCfl
saiToj to— the breeze,
boSth B-b nojiocy BtTpa.
Cateran, pasSofiHaKT. bi.
ropaxTj Bmcokoh IIIot-
JiaHAiH.
cathedral, ' co6opi. , co-
Gopnaa u;epK0Bb.
Catherine, EKarepHHa.
catholic, KaTOJiHKi; Ka-
TOJiaqecKiSj — ism or
Roman — ism, pBMcito-
KaTOJiHiecKaa Btpa
cattle, cKOT-b.
CatUS, Kax-b.
the Caucasus, KaBKas-b.
caught, CM. catch.
cauliflower, i^Bi^THaa Ka-
nycxa.
cause, npHHHHa, ;^'£Jro,
napxifl , xflHtSa , npo-
neccb; to — ,np0HHHaxb,
3acxaBJiHxb, Bejitxh) —
less, CesnpHiHHHuft.
caution, ocxopoatHocxb;
to take — , 6paxb Mtpbi
npe;i;ocxopOxKH0CXH.
cautious, ocxopoffiHbifi,
pa3cy;^HxeJIbHbIM; — ly,
OCXOpOHtHO.
cavalier, KaBaJiepi., poa-
JIHCXTi.
cavalry, KOHHHi^a, Kasa-
jiepia.
cavern, nemepa.
cease, nepecxaBaxb.
cedar, KeApt; KeApoBbiS.
ceiling, hoxo^okt,.
celebrate, npasAHOBaxt;
— d, 3HaMeHHXUfi, H3-
BtCXHblM.
celerity , nocntiuHocxb,
6MCxpoxa.
cell, KejibH.
cellar, norpefii..
Celtic, KOJibxcKiS.
censorship, i^eH3ypa.
censure, uopm^axb, ocy-
H?Aaxb,
central, cpenoxoHHHfi,
^eHxpaJrbHMfi.
centre, nenxp-b.
century, cxojii&xie, bSki,.
ceremonial, i^epeMOHiajn,
ceremonies, o6pflAH; ma-
ster of the — , uepe-
MoniS-MeScxep'b.
ceremonious , ^epeMOH-
HblM, MHHHblS.
ceremony, oSpnAT', ^epe-
MOHia.
certain, BiSpHwS, HtKo-
xopbiM . HSBtcxHbiS ; are —
to rise, HenpeMtHHO
flBaxcfl, she was — ,
OHa 6wjra yBlfepeHa; —
ly, KOHBHHo; — ty Btp ■
Hocxb, ystpeHHOcxb.
Cesar, E^ecapb, Kecapb.
Ceylon, n,ea;ioH'B.
chagrin, oropqeHie, ao-
ca^a.
chain, i^inb, i^tnoiKa.
chair, cxyji-bj easy — ,
Kpecjia; — man, npe^-
cfeAaxejb ; chairmen cf
quarter sessions, npcA-
ctijaxejiH sacbAanifi ,
GbiBaioinHX'b KaatAHe
xpH Micauja no nasHa-
Heaiio OKpyfflHbixii na-
HaJIbRHKOBT..
chaise, KOJiacKa.
chalk, Mtjit, MtjoBoB; —
y, MlijioBoS.
challenge, bhsobt.; to — ,
BbisbiBaxb; — r, Bbi3w-
Baxejib, Bbi3biBaioiniii
(na noeAHHOKT. hjih
Ay9.ib).
chamber, hokoS; — lain,
KaMjieprepi).
chambre, cm. robe,
champ, sceBaxb.
champion, 6oe^^.
chance, cjiyqaS, bosmos-
HOcxb, yAana, cyAbCa;
to take one's
pH-
CKOBaxb ;
to — ,
chancellor
Lord
, uu — , cjiy-
Haxbca, npoHcxoAHxb.
, KaH^Jrep'b ;
, rocyAapcxBeH-
HbiS itaHi^jiepi).
change, nepeMtHa, HSM*-
Henie, MejiKia ReHbrn,
CAana; to — , nepeMt-
HHxb, HSMtHaxb, pa3-
M'feHaxb,nepeM'feHaxbca;
to — situations, nepe-
Mtnaxbca M'fecxaMH.
channel, KaHa-n-b, npo-
jiHBtjKaHaJibHBiSjthe — ,
BpHxaHCKifi KaHaJit.
chap, HeJIOB'feK'b, MOJOA-
SHHa.
chapel, HacoBHH, Kane jja,
MOJIHXBeHHbiS A0M'b,I](ep-
KOBb.
chaplain, KaneaaHt, Ka-
njiaHtj — ship, KaneJiaH-
CXBO.
chapter, rjiaBa.
character, 6yKBa, jinxepa,
HpaBTj, CBOSCXBO, Ka-
necxBO , xapaKxep-b ,
cjraBa , Ao6poe hmh,
necxHoe HMa; he bore
a respectable — , oh-b
CJIbUtT) qeCXKblMTj HejIO-
BtKOM-b; — istic, xapaK-
xepncxHita , oxjihih-
xcjibHoe CBoScxBO, xa-
paKxepiicxHiecKiS.
charge, 6peMa, rpysx,,
pacxoATb , HSAepjKKH ,
njiaxa, npHciioxpij, no-
m ^
neiCHie , nopyieHie ,
f^osmnocTb , atajoSa, 06-
BHHeHie,npHCTym>, Ha-
na^eHie, axana} at
small — , 3a HCSHaiH-
TejbHyio njaxy, ne ;^o-
poro; in — of several
boats , HMtiomiH Bt
CBoeMT. pacnopaffieHiH
Ht.CK0J[hK0 JOffOICfcj to
make a — , npe^cTaB-
jiHTh o6BHHeHie ; to — ,
oSpCMeHHTb , OTiirO-
maTb, HarpysaTb, CTa-
BHTb BT> CMBTTj, B03Jia-
raTb, TpeSoBaTb, npo
CHTb ; with which he
was — d, HTO eny 6bM0
nopyieno; — r, 6oeBoii
KOHb, paTHblft KOHb.
chariot, KOJiecHHu;a.
charitably, jiacitoBo.
charity, MHJiocTbiHH,
Charlemagne, Kapji-b Be-
JIHKiS.
Charles, Kapji-b
charm, npejiecrb, npH-
BJieKaxe^bHOCTb; to — ,
OHapoBaTb,npejibinaTb;
— ing, npejiecTHbiS.
charter, rpaMMara, xap-
Tifl.
chase, oxoxa; to — , ro-
HHTbca 3a, npecj'b/i.o-
BaTb, OXOTHTbCa, Tpa-
BHTb.
chasm, OTBepcTie, nyiH-
Ha, nponacTb.
chasteness, iHCToxa.
chattering of teeth, mejr-
Kanie sySaMH.
chawed up, cyxoS, BaJbifi
cheap, AeuieBuS; to — en,
CA^JtaTb AeineBJie,c6a-
BJiaxb i^lbHy.
cheat, o6MaHbiBaTb.
check, ypoH-b, sasepHtKa,
npenoHa, y3/i,a; to — ,
npenaxcTBOBaTb.
checkered, necrpbia.
cheek, meKa, jiHD,e; —
bone, cKyjiOBaa hjih
CKyjibHaa KOCTb.
cheer, BOCKJiHi];aHie, ypa;
to give three hearty — s,
TpH5KAbI yCepftHO KpH-
Haxb ypa; to — , Bece-
jiHTb, pasBecejraTbj to —
up, CKp'finHTbCH ]IY'
XOM1. ; — filly, Bcce
jro ; — fulness, Bece-
jiocTb 5 — ing, yTiniH-
TejibHbift, OTpaanbiS.
cheese, cwp-b •, — cake,
CHpHHKt, BaTpyiuKa.
cherish, nnxaxb; Hafleatsy).
cherry, bhuihs; — tree,
BnmeHHoe AepeBO.
Chersonesus.nojiyocxpoB'B,
XepcoHect.
chest, cyHAyKt, ainHKt,
rpy^b; — of tea, iJibi
6hkij,
chevalier, KaBajiep-b.
chew, HteBaxb.
chief, rjaea, HanajibHHK'b;
FjiaBHbifi; — ly, npea-
Myii](ecxBeHH0 ; — tain,
HanajibHHK'b^rjiaBa nse-
MeHH.
child, RHTa, peSeHOK-b;
from a — , cb a*t-
cxBa; — hood, a*t-
cxBO ; — like, flibTCKiS;
— 's play, A^xcKaa nrpa,
RliTCKaa 3a5aBa, nrpyoi-
Ka, CesA'feJiHua.
Chili, Hhjih; of—, — an,
HHJieflcKiil.
chill, 3Ho6'b; xojiORHbifi;
to strike a — , Spocaxb
BT> ApoJKb; — y, 3Ho6-
Kifl, saSKift.
chime, sboh-b, xpesBOH'B,
Kypanxbi.
chimney, Tpy6a; — cor-
ner, yrojiT. KaMHHa; —
sweep, — sweeper, ipy-
6o<ihcxtj.
chin, noASopoflOKTb.
China, HnxaH, taptop-B;
*ap*opoBHS.
Chinese, KHxaei^Oi.
chip-box, KopoSoHica.
chivalrous, pbiuapcKiS,
SoraxbipcKiM.
chivalry, pbmapcTBo.
choice, BbiGopii; BbiSop-
HbiS, oxSopHBiM, Apa-
roi;'tHHbiS.
cholera, xojiepa.
choleric, xojtepHHecKifi,
ffiejiHHbift.
choir, KjiHpocb , xop'b,
XOpbl.
choke up , saBaaHBaxb,
sacapHBaxb.
choose, JiBiSapaxb, hbSh-
paxb, xoxtxb.
chopping knife, ctHKa,
nOBapCKOH HOHtHHt.
chose, cm. choose,
chosen, cm. choose.
Christ, XpHCxoct; in the
year of — , (b-b xaKOM-B-
To) roAy nocji* PoacAe-
cxBa XpHcxoBa; — en-
dom , xpacxiaacxBO,
xpHCxiancKle BapoAw;
— ian, XpHcxiaHHHTj,
xpEcxiaHCEifi; — ianity,
xpHcxiaacTBO, xpacxiaH-
CKaa B'bpa; — mas, —
mas time, PoffiA^cxBO
XpncxoBO.
Christopher, Xpncxosopi. .
church, n;epK0Bb ; i;ep-
KOBHbiS; doctor of the
— , AOKXopi. 6orocjOBifl;
the — of England, aH-
rjiHKaHCKaa i];epKOBb; —
man, AyxoBnaa oco6a;
— yard,KJiaA'50me,i^ep-
344
kobhmS norocTl>; — yard
cottage, Kjiaa,6HineHCKifi
3;0MHK'b.
cider, aSjoHOBKa.
cigar, CHrapa.
Gimbrian, KHMBpiScKiS.
cinnamon, KopHii;a.
circle, Kpyrt; to—, OKpy-
asaxb, o5HHMaTb.
circuit, OKpyiKHOCTbj oQ-B-
eMT.; — OUS, OKOJIHHHblfi.
circumference, oKpyat-
HOCTb.
circumspection, ocMoxpn-
XeJIbHOCTb.
circumstance , oSctoh-
TCJIbCTBO.
circumstancial, o6ctoh-
TejbHbifi, no;i;po6Hbi2.
cistern, i^ncTepHa , BO-
ROeMT).
citizen, rpafflftaHHH'B.
citron, ^HTpoHl..
city, ropoAt (nMiiomiJi
coSopTj), TaKHte Ha-
SBaHJe pipeBHtfimeft ,
KOMMepnecKoft qacxn
JIoHftOHa (ApeeHiM ro-
pOJ^'I>, TOprOBMH KBap-
TaJij) .
civil, rpaffi/i;aHCKiS, Mest-
p;oyco6Hbifi, B'featJinBbiil,
yHxnBbiM} — isation,
i;HBnjiH3ai;ia , npocBt-
menie; — ized, npo-
CBtmeHHHii; — ly, yi-
xubo, BtajanBO.
clad, CM. clothe-
claim, upHXH3aiiie,npaBo;
to — , xpeSosaxb lero,
HMixb npnxHsaHie na
Hxo, oSiiflBJiaxb npe-
xeHsiio Ha hxo.
clamour , Kpn^aib, bo-
niaxb, iByMtxTb,
dan, njieiia.
clap, xjionaxb (pyKaMii).
claret, BopAOCKoe bmho.
clash, SpHKaxbca, cxaji-
KHBaxbca.
clasp, 3acxeHiKa,3ai;'fenKa.
class, KJaccb, cocjOBie,
poAi>,pa3pafl'b; second,
— river, BTopoKjaccnaa
ptKa; — ical, BjraccHHe-
CKlfi.
clatter, 5paKaxb,cxyMaxb,
xjionaxb,
Claudius, KjiaB^ifi.
clause, KJiay3yjia, oro-
BopKa, npnoaBOiHaa
ycjiOBHaa cxaxta,
clay, rjiHHa, ssMJia.
clean, qHCTMil; HHcxo;to — ,
HHcxHXb; — ing, 'Jiiine-
Hie, MHCXKa; — liness,
onpflXHOcxb,Hiicxonjiox-
HOCXb.
cleanse away, oxHHmaxb.
clear, hhcxmu, HCHbiS,
jiBHwFi, BHaTHbiii; flCHO;
to — , npoHHmaxb, o'm-
maxb; to — one's self
of any one, ocBo6offi-
^axbca, iisoaBJiaxbca,
oxAl&JbiBaTbca oxT) ko-
ro; to— the door, bh-
xoAHTb H3t ;;Bepefi; — Jy,
flCHO, HBHO.
cleave, pacKajiHBaxb,pac-
Ka.iibiBaxbca, KOJioxbca.
cleft, CM. cleave,
clemency, Mujiocxb, mh-
jiocepsie.
Clement, KjrnsjeHxt.Kjin-
Menxin.
clergy, AyxoBeacxBo; —
man, CBameHiiHK'b, na-
cxopx),
clerical, syxoEHHS.
clerk, ceKpexapb, nncapb,
npnKamHKTj.
clever, ncKycHbifi, cb*-
Aymift.
cliff, yxecb, npyxoflpt.
climate, Kjniuaxtj cxpana
climb, Jia3HTb; to — up,
ESJitsaxb.
cling, npHn,i6njraTbca.
cloak, njamTj, uinnejib.
clock, (CXiHHbie HJIH cxo-
jiOBwe) Hacbi; nacoBoS;
four o'clock, Hexbipe
qaca; what o'clock, ko-
xopwS nacb? — face,
i;H$ep6.iaT'B,B,Bi*HpHaa
AOCKa.
clog, AGpeBaHKbift 6aiii-
iiaKT).
close, oropoAKa, saropo-
HteHHoe M'fecxo, saKJiio-
qeaie, onoHqaaie, eo- .
Hen;^, hcxoatj; coMKHy-
Xblll , 3aXB0peHHMft,
BHnMaTeJIbHblft,X0'3HblS,
6jin3Ki8, njioxHO, xtc-
HO, Sjhsko; to keep
in — custody, cxporo
sepmaxb B-b sanepxHj
to — , CMbiKaxb, saKpbi-
Baxb, 3axB0pHXb, koh-
Haxb, oKaH^HBaxb, npe-
npan^axb , KOHnaxbca;
-by, — to, BOSJffe, no/i;-
jfb;— ly, n.!ioxHO, 6jih3-
Ko; — nesS; Ayxoxa, cnep-
xbiS Boa^yxTj.
cloth, cyKHO, CKaxepxb;
to — e, OAtBaxb, noKpw-
Baxb; — es, — ing, oji;e;K-
Aa,njiaxbe; — ingtrade,
Toprt cyKuOMt.
cloud, ofi-iaito; — y, 06-
.laMHbiii.
clove, vBOSAnica.
clown, My/KIIKT.,
clumsy , rpyobift, xonop-
Bbiii.
clung, CM. cling.
cluster, rpynnnpoBaTb,
pacxH rposRKaMH.
coach, Kapexa, snJinjKaHCbj
a— and six, luecxepKa;
by — , btj Kapextj —
horse , itapeTHaa jio-
^Ia;^b; — man, Kyqepi,)
— office, KOHTOpa nvijin-
ffiaHCOBTj; — stand, 113-
Bou^Hiba 6npata.
COal,yrojrb;yrojibHi.iit; — pit,
KajieHHoyroJibHaa Konb.
coarse, rpySuS.
coast, MopcKoB Oepcrt;
to — , ^.IIaBaTbBJ^OJIh 6e-
peroB-b.
coat, itasTaHt, ciopxyK-b;
— ofai'ms; repOoBbiil
mnTT>; — of mail, KOJib-
Myra.
cock, ntTyxi,, EpaHT.*,-^
fight, ntTyuiiH 60S.
cockle, rpeOeHKa (paEO-
BHHa),
cocoa, KOKOCB; KOKOCOBblfi.
code, CBOfl-b SaKOHOB'b,
yjiOffieHie.
codfish, xpecKa,
coffee, KQise; K0$eLiHbi8;
— house,KO«eSHH,KO*e8-
HbiS ftout; — roora,KO*efi-
Haa 3ajia (bt> tocthh-
coffin-like, noxoJEiS na
rpoS-b^ no/i,o6HwSrpo6y.
cohort, KoropTa, TOJina,
mauKa.
coil, CKja;i;biBaTb (6yx-
TaMH), cBepTbiBaib,
coin, Moaexa, ;;eHbrH; to
—, icitaHHTb, Bbifly-
MblBaXb.
cold, xojio?;7j, npocxy/^a;
xojioAHbiH; I am — ,MH'fi
xoJIo;^HO, a saQay; — of
comfort, oesyxtuiHWM,
Geaoxpa^HbiM.
collar, omeiiHUKi..
collect, coSnpaxbj— ed,
cnoKoftabiii ; she in-
stantly became calm
and — ed^ oHa lOTiacT)
ycaoKOHJiaci n co6pa»
— 345 —
jacb Mhicxnwm; — ion,
co6paHie, coonpaHie;
— or,co5HpaTeJb,c6op-
u^tIK'b.
college, yHHBepcnxexT.,
^aicyjibxexi., KOJiJieria,
Ebiciuee yqe5Hoe sase-
ABHie, aKa/^eMia; naili-
tary— , BoeHHO-yqeGaoe
saBejtenie.
collegiate , coGopHwS,
KOJiJieriHjrbHbiit.
collision, cxojiKHOBeHie.
colonel, nojntoEHnK-b.
colonial, KOJOHia^iibBbift.
colonisation, KOJioHnsa-
i;ia, nocejreHie, bo/i,bo-
pcHie, yipeatfteHie ko-
.TOHia.
colonise, noce.iaxb.
colonist, nocejienei^i., ico-
JIOHHCXT..
colony, kojiohIh, nocejie-
nie.
colour, i^B'feT'ii, KpacKa;
to — ,KpacHxb, OKpainH-
Baxb; — ed, i^BtxHoH;
copper — ed, n'bji^HO-
D;B'fexHbiH; olive — ed,
oaiiBKOBaro i];Bl6xa; the
water was —ed with
the blood, Bo^a oSarpa-
jiacb ICpOBlK).
column, KOJioHHa.
combat, 6HXBa,cpa/KeHie,
6011; .to — cpaffiaxbca,
6opoxbca,6nxbca; — ant,
Sopen;!., 6oei;('i, pax-
HHKli.
combination, coeRHHeHie,
coBOKynJienie.
combine, coe^nHaxb, coe-
AHHflxbca , croaapH-
Baxbca.
combustible, ropioqiSMa-
xepiajiTj.
come, npaxo^nxb, npiia-
asaxBj HflXH, Bocnocji'lB-
ROBaTb, cjryiaxbca, na-
cxaBaxb; (noB. hsluji )
nofiAeMt! — on, man!
ffaBafixe! to — along,
nj[Tiv, to — back, bos-
Bpamaxbca; to — down,
cxo/^HXb , cnycKaxbca,
cjitsaxb, onycitaxbca,
HarpHHyxb; to — forth,
BblXOAHXb IISTj ncHaxH,
6bIXb H3;iaHHbIM'Ij; to —
in, BxoAiixb, npHxo-
AHxb, npi'£3Htaxb, saxo-
AHxb; to — leaping, npn-
cicaKaxb; to — near, noj-
xoji;HXb, npHQjHHjaxbca;
to — on.HacxynaxLjto —
out, BblXOi^HXb, bwxo-
AHXb BIj CBlSXt) to
over, nepexoAHXb, ne-
penpjiBJraxbcaj to —
round, ii'onpaBjiaxbca,
nepeM*HHxbca; to — to
be true,ocymecxBJ[HXb-
cff; to — to hand, 6bixb
noftTb pyKOio ; to — to
pass^. cjiyqaxbca; to —
to possess, Bcxynaxb
BO BJra3,'fiHie(4'fiM'b); to —
Tip, Bcxo^Hxb Ha, no;^-
Hnjiaxbca na, bhxo-
ffHXb Ha Bepx'b, no/i;xo-
3;nxb; to — up to the
capital, npitxaxb bx.
cxoJiHiJ,y; to — up with,
AOroHHXb; I am coming,
a ceMqact 6yAy; is any
one coming, 6y/i;exi. jih
Kxo Hn6y;;b? let little
children — nigh, nyc-
THxe RtxeM ko mh^S!
the tide was coming
in, BOfta cxajia npnGbi-
eaxb; which ought to
— before the courts of
common law, Koxopbia
^OAxo/^ax■i noj^'b o5mie
3aK0HH.
44
— 346
comedy, EOMCRiH.
comely, npajinHHHfi, R0>
CTOfiHblli.
comer, cm. new comer.
comfort, YAoSexBO, yiOT-
HOCTb, KOMtOpTT., yxfi-
meHie; a house of
J J^O'U'h CHafijKeHHIilfi
BCiMH yAOfiCTBajIH} —
able, npiflTHbiS, kom-
sopxaQejibHHS; — ably,
npiiiTHO, KoasopTaQejib-
HO, npiiJin^Ho; — less,
CesyTiiuHbig.
command, noBeJifinie^ npH-
Kasaaie, sanoB'fi^b^ Ha-
lajibCTBO, KOJiaHsosa-
Hie, npe;i,BO;i;HTejibCTBO}
— of one's temper^
BJiacTb HaftTi coSoiO; at
his word of — , no npn-
KasaHiio ero; to—, na-
HaJIbCTBOBaTb, KOliaH-
ROBaTb, BBji'STb, npnita-
3HBaTb,BJia;^'£Tb(l'6M'b)^
HMtTb Bii pacnopaJKe-
Hin, oQanMaxb (b3o-
poM'i); — er, naiajib-
HHKTjj KOliaHRHpi., KO-
MaH/i;yiomi3 ; — ex' in
chief, ^JIaBHOKOMaH/^y^o-
miS; — ing, noBejiii-
xejibHbiS.
commemoration J socao-
MHHaaie.
commence, Ha^HHaxb, na-
HHHaxbCHj — ment, Ha-
HHHaHie, Haiajio.
commend, nopyiaxb,npe-
nopynaxb; — ation,
Offo5penie, noxBQJia.
comment, aawtiaHie, xoji-
KOBanie, nepecy/Kffenie.
commerce.ToproBjiH.xopn.
commercial, xoproBwa,
KOMiiepHecKifi; — ly, B'b
KOMMepHeCKOMli HJIII
TOprOBOUI. OXHOlUeHiH,
commission, KOMMHccia,
nopyienie; in the — ,
bij 3;0JiatH0cxH; high—,
HaABopHHfi cy;^'b, Bhc-
niaa KoMJiHccia; to be
— ed, HMlixb uopyne-
Hie; — er, kommhccIo-
Hepi., yno.iiHOMOieHHbifi,
HHHOBUHKt.
commit, npenopyqaxb,
BBipHxb, caataxb bT}
TiopbMy, yqHHaxb, co-
Bepmaxb; to — an er-
ror , ;i,'Sjiaxb oinnSKy,
Bna;^axb bi> omnfiKy; —
tee, KOMBxexT. , kom-
MHCCifl , KOMHXeTCKifi,
KoaiinccioHHbiS.
commodious , yffoSHbifi,
viothhS, . dokoShbiS,
npocxopHHS.
commodity, xoBapt.
commodore, KOManRopi.,
HaiaJtbHHKx. oxpH3,a.
common, o6u],i& BHroH-b,
o6u;aa nacxsa; oSntifl,
npocxofi , oSbiKHOBeH-
Hbifi; — s, HHffiuaa na-
jiaxa, HHjKHifl napjia-
MCHXT.; — ly; oShkho-
BCHHo; — ness, Bceo6n^-
Hocxb; — wealth, pec-
ny6jiHKa.
commune, HMlixb oSn^eaie,
communicate, coe^Hnaxb-
ca, cooQmaxb, coo6-
maxbca, HMtxb coo6-
n^eHie-
communicatiouj cooSme-
Hie; a line of—, kom-
MyHHKai^ioHnaa jiUHia.
communion, npn'^iameHie.
community, oSmecxBo,
compact, njioxHufi, cnaora
hmS, CHJaxLiS.
companion, xoBapHm-b, co-
Gec'B/ilHUK'b, conyxHHKT.,
noftpyra; — way, BXOiU'b
Bi> KanHTancKyH) Karoxy
(na KyneiecKOMT. cyjj-
Ht).
company, o6mecxBo, ro-
cxHj iipoBoataxue, po-
xa, KaunaHia, 6ec'h;^a;
in — with, BM'ficx'fe cij
to join — with, npacoe-
RHHHXbCH Kl..
comparatively, cpaBSH-
xeJbHO.
compare , cpaBHHBaTt,
cjiHHaxbj to — notes, ne«
peuienxbiBaxbca; — d
with, BT} cpaBHenia cb.
comparison, cpaBHeaie.
compass, KOMnacb.
compassion, cocxpa;^aHie;
— ate, cocxpa^axejibHHSj
to — ate, coHtaji'fixb.
compel, noHyffiRaxb, npn*
Hyffi;i;axb, sacxabJiaxb.
compensate, BosHarpas-
Raxb.
competence, nponnxame,
ROCxaxo'JHoecoflepataHie.
competition, conepHH^c-
cxBO, cocxaaaHie, koh-
Kypeai^ia.
competitor, coHCKaiejib,
conepHUKi!.
compile, cocxaBJiaxb, co-
IHHaXb.
complain , atajroBaxbca,
ctxoBaxb; — t, atajioSa,
CfeXOBBHie.
complement, KOMnjieKx-b.
complete, nojintiS, co-
BepilieHHbia, KOMDJieKX-
HbiS; to—, ROBepniaxb,
ROKaHiHBaxb , coBep-
uiaxb; — ly, coBcp-
mCHHO.
compliant, croBopinBuS,
yro/fJiHBbia.
compliment, noKJioHt,
npHBlixcxBie, nosflpaa-
jieHie.
- U1
comply, corjiamaTbca.
compose, cocxaBJiflTb, co-
HHHHTi., ycnoKOHBaxb;
— d, cocTaBJieHHwfl; to
be — d of, cocTOHTb hbtj.
compound, C0CTaB'i,CMl6ci>:
to — , cocxaBJiaTb.
comprehend , noHUMaxb,
saKjtioqaTb, co;i;epHiaTb
Bt ceSt.
comprise, BsiibmaTb, sa-
KjiioqaTb.
compunction, pacKaanie.
computation, ciHcaeHie,
BuqHCJieiiie.
compute, ciHCJiaTb, BH-
HHCJaTb.
comrade, TOBapHinij.
conceal, CKpbiBaxb; — ment,
CKpHxoe Mtcxo, 76*-
concede, ycxynaxb.
conceive, nOHHuaxb^ ;iy-
Maxb^Boo6paHtaxb; to —
hopes, BostHMtxb Ha-
^eat;i;y, nnxaTb na^effi-
pj-, he — d the idea,
ewy npHinjio Ha yMt.
concentration , cocpeffo-
xoiHBaHie,
concern, r*jio, 3a6oTa,
6e3noKoficxBO, CKop6b;
to—, Kacaxbcaj — ing,
KacaxeJibHO, 0, 061..
conciliate , corjiamaxb _,
npHMHpaxb.
conclude, 3aKJiH)iaxb,K0H-
qaxbj ptmaxb, OKan-
HHBaxb; to — a bargain,
cxoproBaxbCH.
conclusion, saKjuoienie.
concordance , yKasaxejib
H3pe>ieHifi 6H6jeficKHX'b,
concourse, cxeienie.
concur , cnocnimecxBO-
Baxb, COA'bScTBOBaXb,
cxo;^HTbcs, corjiamaxb-
c«} — rence, cxeqeme,
coe;^HHeHie.
condemn, ocyHtj^axb, nps-
cyst/^axb , npiirOBapn-
Baxb; — ation, ocyjK-
^CHie, npnroBOpi..
condescend, cHHcxoAnxb.
condition, ycjioBie, no-
joatCHie, cocxoaflie; on
— , Cb ycjroBieMT., ci.
yrOBOpOMTb, CB X'feMl)
HXOfibl.
conduct, noBeACHie, no-
cxynoKTb , BeRenie
(;^'feJI'b); to — , BecxH,
npoBomaxb, ycxpoHBaxb,
pyKOEOffHXb, ynpaBjraxb,
oxnpaBjaxb (E(epKOBHbia
xpeCbi)} — or, npoBO/t-
HHKT..
confederate, coiosHHK-b.
confer on, atajrosaxb KOMy;
— ence, coBlfemaHie.
confess , HcnoBt^ibiBaTb ,
npnSHaBaxbCH ; — or,
HC^0B'6;^H^K'B; HcnoBt-
/^aromiS, B'fepyiorqiftB'b.
confide, BBtpaxb , bb*-
paxbca, nojiaraxbca; —
nee, fljOBlbpeHHOcxb, ^o-
Btpiej — nt, yB*peH-
hh8j in— nee, — ntly,
Cb yBlbpeHHOCXbH).
confine , orpannHHBaXbj
saicJtiOHaxb, 3anHpaxbj,
nocaRHXb B-b xiopbMy;
to be — d to one's bed,
jieffiaxb btj nocxejilfej
— ment , saKjnoieHie,
po3;bi, apocT-b,
confirm , yxBcpaRaxb,
yKp'finjiaxb.
conflict, cxbiHKa, cocxa-
3aHie; to—, fiopoxbca,
conformation , cocxas-b,
cxpoeaie, cjioateHie.
confound, pa3cxpoHxb,
paapymaxb, CMymaxb.
confuse, c6nBaxB, 3any-
xuaaTb; — d, cmymeH-
Hbift, CMifemaHHbia, 6e3-
nopa;^o'iHbift ; to be-
come — d, CMyii:(axbCfl,
c6nBaxbCfl.
confusion, saiutmaxejb-
cxBO, CMyn;eHie, sany-
xaiiHOCXb) nyxaHHHi^a.
congenial, corjiacHbiS, e;^H-
HO;^ymHbIa; — minds,
JiioAn o;^HHaKOBO mh-
cjramie , jiroffH xoro
me (ymcxBeHHaro hjih
syxoBHaro) HanpaBJie-
Hia.
conglomeration, naKo-
njtenie, coBOKynjieme.
congratulate, nos/ipaB-
jiaxb.
congregation, coCpanie,
cxo;^Ka, KOHrperaAia.
conjecture, ;^o^a/^Ka, npe^-
nojiomenie; to — , ;^o•
ra;;HBaxbCH,
conjugal, cynpyatecKig.
conjunction, coe;iHHeHie,
coios-b.
conjuncture, cxeqeHie(o6-
cxoaxejibexBT,), cayiaft.
conjure, saKJinnaxb; — r,
EOJTAyH'b.
connect, coe;^HHaxb, cbh-
3HBaxb; — ed, CBa3-
HbiS, btj eooxHomeHia;
— ion, CBflSb, C0I03'b,
coo6meHie, eHonieme.
connivance, noxBopcxBo,
;i;onymeHie.
connive, noxaKaxb, no-
xBopexBOBaxb.
conquer , saBoeBWBaxb,
noKopaxb, o6y3ftbiBaxb,
nofi'fiatRaxb; — or, no-
dt^nxejib, saBoeBaxejib-
conquest, saBoeBame.
conscience, coB^cxb.
348
coRSclentiOQsIy, so6poco-
BtCTHO.
conscious , yB^peaHbifi,
3HaiomiS} — ness, co-
snaHie, mybctbo.
consent, corjacie; to — ,
corjiamaTbCfl.
consequence, cji*RCTBie^
nocjit^ilcTBie, BafflHocxB}
by — , in — , Bt CJ['fe/^-
CTBie cero.
consequently , cjii^oBa-
TGJIbHO.
consider, pascyatAaTb, o6-
AyMblBaXb, npHHHMaTb
B-b cooSpaaieHle, cih-
TaTb, pascMaxpHBaTb,-
they will — twice, ohh
xopomeHbKO nojiyMaiOT'b;
— able, SHaiHtejibHbiS,
MHorosHanymit}, Bast-
HbiS; — able time,npo-
j^ojuEnxejibHoe BpcMH;
— ably,3HaHnxej[bH0} —
ation , oG/tyMbiBanie,
pa3cyat/^eHie, yBaatenie.
consign over, npeii;aBaxb.
consist, cocxoaxb; — ent,
COBJI'feCXHblS.
consolation, yxtmenie.
consonant , coraacHaa
6yKBa.
conspiracy, saroeop-b.
conspirator , saroBop-
mnicb.
conspire, cocxaBJiaxb sa-
roBop-B.
constable, KonHexa6jib.
constancy, xBepnocxb, no-
cxojincxBO.
constant, nocxoaKHMS; —
]y , nocxoHHHO , 6e3-
npecxaHHO.
Constantius, KoHcxaHi;ifi.
consternation, cuaxenie,
HsyMJieaio.
constitute , cocxaajaxb;
to be happdily — d
HMtTb cqacTJiMBoe Ha-
npaBjieHie,
constitution , rocy^ap-
cxBenHoe ygpeatACHie,
KOHCXHXyi^iK, Xt-lIOCJO-
ffienie; — al, KOHCxiixy-
I^iOHHblS.
construct, cxpoaxb, coaa-
flaxb; — ion, nocxpoft-
Ka, nopasOKt, pa3M'fe-
meflie HjiH pacnojioate-
iiie cjioB'b, KOHcxpyKitifl.
construe , Ataaxb koh-
cxpyKi^iio.
consult, cnpauiHBaxb co-
Bifexa y Koro, coBixo-
BaXbCH Cl> K'fiM'b.
consume, cbt^^Tb, ho-
ffiHpaxb, noxpeSjiaxb.
consummate, coBepniea-
HblH.
consumption, noxpeSjie-
iiie, Hcxpaxa, laxoxKa.
contagion, sapaaa.
contain, coRppataxb, co-
ffepasaxb Bt ceSt.
contaminate, ocKBepnaxb
contemn, npeanpaxb hxo,
npeneSperaxb itnt.
contemplation, cosepi^a-
Hie, paaMbiiuaeHie.
contemporary, coBpeMea-
HEKT.; coEpeiieHUbifl.
contempt, npeaplfenie.
contend, cnopnxb, cocxa-
aaxbCflj to — for, cocxa-
saxbca aa, nosBnaaxbca
aa.
content, ROBOJibcxBo. y^o-
BOJIbCXBie) AOBOJIbHblft,
6eaponoxHbiii;to — one's
self, yftOBOJibCXBOBaxb-
ca; — s, coAepvKanie;
— ion, cnop-b, npenie,
cocxHsanie.
contest, cocxaaanie , cnop-B.
contiguous, CMeaiuuii.
continent, MaxcpHH-b; —
al, KOHXHHeHXajIbHbI&.
continual, GesnpecxaHHwft)
— ly , OeanpecxaHHO,
OesnpepbiBHO.
continuance, npoAOJiatc-
Hie,npoAOJia!HxeJibHOCxb.
continue , npoAOJiataTb,
npoAOjaeaxbca; — d,6e3«
npepbiBHuft ; the im-
pression— ing on my
mind, xaKt v&v'b bxo
npoM3Bejio rjry(5oEoe
Bnenax.i'feHie na Meaa.
contract, nojiyHaxb, RO-
roBapHBaxbCfl ; bbcxh
neperoBopbi; to— debts,
BXOAHXb BT. AOJrH.
contrary, npoxnBHoe; npo-
XHBHbiS; — to my ex-
pectation, npoxHBT. Moe-
ro offiHAaHia; a notice
to the — , oxMiRHxejib-
Hoe npeAHHcaHie ; on
the — , to the — , aa-
npoxnBt.
contrast, npoxKBOnoJOa-
Hocxb; to — , npoxHBy-
noJiaraxb,cjHqaxb, cpas-
HHEaXb, cocxaBJiaxb KOB-
XpaCTTj HJIH npOXHBO-
nojioataocxb, oxjanaxb-
ca , paaJiaiecxBOBaxb
siejKAy C06010.
contribute, cnocntmecxBO-
Baxb, cnoco6cxBOBaxb,
coA^ftcxBOBaxb.
contribution, K0Hxpn6y-
i;ia, coop-b, CKjiaAiaaa,
BHOcb, cnoculJiiiecxBO-
Baaie, coA'fiScxBie.
contrivance, BbiAynKa, aa-
jilbpeHie, yMbicejii,.
contrive, yxnxpaxbca , npn-
Aj'MbiBaxb,
control, KOHXpO.Tb, BJIH-
aie, BJiacxb, noBtpKa.
549
controversy, cocTasaHie,
cnopi., nojCMima.
convenience, coaveniency,
y/^oOcTBO , OrHHBHBia,
TpyTTj.
convenient, yRoeHua.
convent, MOHacxbipb, o6h-
Tejib;— icle, cxon6Hme,
cSopnme;— ion, co6pa-
Hie, KOHBeHTTj.
conversation, paaroBopx,
converse, paarOBapHsaTb,
Cecfe^OBaTb.
conversion, oSpamejiie.
convert, npeapamaxb, npe
TBopaTb, o6paiiJ(aTb (B'b
HCTHUHyK) Btpy),
convey, oxBOSHTb, nepe-
B03HTb,^epecbIiIaTb,;^o-
CTaBJiaTb.coo6inaTb,HO-
cHTbj — ance, Beaenie,
BOSKa, npoB03i>, nepe-
'fc3/i;'b,tiOB03Ka,3KHnaffl'ii5
— ance of letters, nepe-
CHJiKa nnccMT),
convict, H3o5.iiiHaTb; —
ion, y6'fe!K3;eHie.
convince, y6iiffiAaTb.
convincing , ySt^uTejib-
Hbl'A.
convulsed, cxBaieHi. cy-
rtoporoio.
cook, noBapt, KyxapKa;
to — , cxpanaTb, roTO-
BHTb; —cry, noBapeH-
Hoe HCKycTBo; choice
— ery, OTJinqubiS ctojii>.
cool, npoxjia/^Hbitt, xjia/i;
HOKpOBHblll; — ly, XAajJ,
IIOKpOBIlO.
cope, GajtaaxHHT), KaMii-
jiaBKa (y 6'ibJiaro ^y-
XOBGHCTBa), KJIoQyKTj
(y MOHaXOBT)).
copeek, Koneflita.
Copenhagen, KonenrareHt.
copioas, o6M.ibHbiM, H80-
CHJbHUft.
copper , BiihAb , M*)^HbiH
fleHbrw; i>rIiji;HbiS,
copse, KycxapHHKTj.
copy, Konifl, nepenHcaa-
Hoe Ha HHCTO; to ■ — ,
^o;^paa{aTb ; — book,
xexpa/^b.
coranto, KypaHxi. (xa-
HeAT>),
cord, BepSBKR , C0K)3Tj,
CBHSb;— ially, pa;^ymHO.
cork, npoSoiHaa Kopa.
corn, »nxo, xji'fefii.; —
bearing, xji'fefiopoAHbiS;
— ed beef, co>ioHHHa.
corner, yroa-b, yroJiOK-b.
Cornwall, KopHBajuiHCb.
coronation, Koponaiiia.
corporal, KanpajiX).
corporeal, xife-iecHbiS.
corpse, xpyni., MepxBoe
T*JIO.
corpulent, flopoflHHS, /^e-
Cejibift.
correct, HcnpaBJaxb; — ly,
npaBHJibHO.
correspondence, cooxBtx-
CTBeHHOCxb, cxo;i;cxBO,
nepenncKa, KoppecnoH-
;i;eHi;iH.
correspondent, Koppecnoa
/^CHXTb.
corridor, KoppHAopij.
corrupt, HcnopqeHHbifl,
pasBpaxHbift; — ion, nop
Ha, HcnopHeHHOcxb, pa3
BpaxT.
cost, I^llHa, I^IJHHOCXb, H3-
ffepffiitn, pacxoR-b; at
the — of, Ha cnext; to
— ., cxOHXb; — lyj nlfeH-
Hbifl,3paron,'16HHMft, ii;o-
porofi.
costermonger, nfijioHHiiKTb
cot, xnasHHa; — tage, xh-
iKHHa , ceJibCKifi ;^o-
mhk-b; a -- tage girl,
/tepcBeHCKaa ftlbBymKa.
cotemporary, coBpeMca-
HHK'B.
cotton, xjionnaxaa fiysia-
ra; SyMaatusift, xjion-
Haxo6yMa!KHbiM.
couch, nocxejib, KyuiexKa;
to — , Hanpasjiaxfc
(Konbe).
could, CM. can-
council, COB-bXTj.
counsel, coB'bxT.j — lor,
coBtxoBaxejib.
count, rpati; to — , ciH-
xaxb; to — out, to — to
any one, OTciHXHBarb
KOMy.
countenance, JIH^o, bh-
paffienic JiHn;a; to — ,
OjraronpiaxcTBOBaxb, no-
KpOBHXeJIbCXBOBaTb.
counter, npHJiaBOKt; to —
balance, coxpaHaxb paB-
HOBl&cie , paBHaxbca ,
ypaBHOBtiuHBaxb, npH-
B0/!;Hxb B-b paBHOBtcie;
— part, /^BoiHrntt.
countess, rpasHHH.
country, oxe^ecxBo, p,e-
peBHH, nojie, cxpana,
seMJia; flepeBeHCidfi^ to
go into the — , 'Jbxaxb
3a ropost; — gentle-
man, cejibCKifi ABopa-
KHH-b; — man, 3eMjiaK'B,
cooxeHecTBeHHHK'i, e;^H-
H03ejiei](T3, ;iepeBeHCKifl
asHxejib, cejiaHHH'b; a —
seat, noMtcxbe , ;^e-
pcBHii ; a — village,
;^epeBHa.
county, rpa^cxBo; — town,
y'fe3;;Hbift ropofti..
couple, napa; a— of mi-
nutes, MHHyxbi ;^R1^; to
— , coeflHHaxb.
courage, MyatecxBO, xpa-
350
6pocTb, nyxtj fioApocTt;
— giOUS, CMtJItlft.
course, xoj);i>, Strt, Te-
qeHiejKypcB, nonpnine,
BpeMa, nopa;ioKi,, one-
pe;ib, cnocofi'b fltS-
CTBifl, oCpamenie (cojth-
i;a), oBpas-B jkhshh; of
— , KOHCHHO, Haxypajib-
HO, paayMteicfl; a mat-
ter of — , ^'fejIO OHeHb
oCBIKHOEeHHOe.
court, ABopt, cy^T); —
of justice, — of law,
cyAt, npHKasT., najia-
ra; to — , ^OMoraTBCH,
noCHBaxbCJi, HCKars He-
ro, caaxaTbCH saj —
eouB, EtffiJHBbiS ; —
esan, pacnyxHaa aten-
mnna; — esy, yqxHBOCxB,
BiffiJHBOcxB; — favour,
i^apcKaa sinjtocTb; — ier,
npHflBOpHHS.
COQSin , ABOiopoAHbift
Spax-b, jBOiopoAHaa ce-
cxpa.
cove, He6ojibinofi sajiHBij,
6yxxa.
Covenanter , yHacTHHET.
Bt KOHBeHX*.
cover, cover np, noKpti-
Baxb; — ed, cb noKpH-
xoK) roJiOBOio; — ing,
noEpbimKa , noKpbiBa-
Jio; — t, yrOcHOKt.
covetous, aji^HbiS, ataA-
HBlS, JIIo60CTfl2taTejIb-
HWfi.
cow, KopoBa; — herd, ko-
pOBHHKT., nacxyxT).
coward, xpycb;— ice, xpy-
cocTb- — ly, xpycjiHBbiS.
cower, CHfttxb Ha Kopxoi-
KaxTi , npnatHMaxbCH ,
CKopqHBaxbCfl ; to —
down, npHctCTb no^-
xaBi) Horu.
crack, xpecKt, xjionaHie,
xpeinHHa, pa3C*JiHHa;
to — , xjronaxb, rpwsxb
(op*XH).
cradle, juojibKa, K0Jibi6ejb.
craft, MejiKoe cyaHO.
crafty, KOBapHbifi, xhx-
pbiS.
crag, yxecbj — gy, yxe-
cncxbiS.
cram, Ha6HBaxb, nanoJt-
HHTb, BXHCKHBaXbCa.
cramp, cysopora, cnaciia.
crash, xpecKt.
crave, mojthxb (o leM'b).
craven, xpyct.
craving, ajiKanie, aeTiaHie.
crawl, noji3axb.
crazy, cyMacraeRniiM.
cream, cjihbkh.
create, coxBopaxb, npo-
nsBOAHxb B-b , HasHa-
laxb, onpen'fejraxb.
creation, xBopeme, co-
xBopenie.
creator, xBopem>.
creature, xBapb, cyme-
cxBO, XBOpenie, cos^a-
nie.
credibility,3;ocxoB'fepHocxb.
credit, Kpe^Hxt, R0B*pie,
yBaatenie; of — , noJib-
syiomiSca yBaffieaicM'b,
— or, saHMo^aBei^'bjKpe-
AHxopt.
credulity, jrerKOBtpie.
creed, ncnoBi&Af'Hie Btpti,
CQMBOJI'b Btpbl.
creek, 6yxxa.
creep, nojisaxb, xacKaxb-
ca; to— in, BaaasHBaxb.
Creole, Kpeojii.,
crept, CM. creep.
crestjHauiJieMHHK'bjUiJieM'b,
crew, SKHnaajt KopaSjia,
Maxpocbi.
crime, npecxyujieHie.
criminal, npecxynHHETb;
npecxynHbifi , yroJiOB-
HblS.
crimson , KapMasHUHbiii
cripple, KajiifeKa.
crisis, KpHSHCT., KpHXH-
lecKoe o6cxoaxejrbCXBO.
criterion, oxiiriHHxejibHbiH
npnsHaKi).
critical, KpHxunecKift.
criticism, KpHxnKa.
crook, nacrymifi nocox-b;
— ed, KpHBofi,rop6aTHft.
crop, ypoatat.
crosier, nocoxi. apxie-
peScKifi, atesjiii, naxe-
pnr[a. «
cross, KpecT-b; Kpecxo-
bhM, KpecxooOpasHHS,
nonepeHHbiH; to — , ne-
peciKaxb, nepecxynaxb,
nepeniarHBaxb, nepe-
npaBjraxbca; — bow,
ap6ajiexT>, caMOcxptJiij;
— ing, nepeKpecxoKT>;
— man, apfiajerHHKii.
crowd, xojina; to — , toji-
HHXbCa, XtCHHXbCH, Ha-
6nBaxb, HanojHflXb.
crown,KopoHa,Ka3Ha, npa-
BHxejbcxBo, KpoyHt (1
py6. 56 Kon. cep.); to
— , BtHiaXb, KOpOHO-
Baxb, yB^HiBBaxb.
crucify, pacnHHaxb.
crude, Hespijrbifi.
cruel, JKccxoKifi} — ly,ate-
cxoKo;— ty, ffiecxoKOcxb.
cruise, KpyatKa, Kpelicep-
CXBO.
crumble, Epomnxb.
crusade, EpecxoBuS no-
xoffT.; — r, KpecxoHO-
cei^T).
crush, pasAaBjiQEaxb.
crust, EopEa.
- 351 -
cry, KpHKT., jaS; to — ,
njaKaxb, icpaqaTb, boc-
KJiHi^aTb; to — after any-
one, Kpnqaxb KOMy
BCJitRT.; to— out, BCKpn-
KHBaTt, BOCKJIHIi(aTb,
Cuba, Ky6a.
cuff, xya-b, yAapt.
cuirass , 6poHa, jiaTu,
KHpacTb ; — iex", jiet-
HaKt, KHpacHpt.
culprit, oSsHHeHHuS, npe
CXynHHK'b.
cultivate, o5pa6oTHBaTb,
pa3B0/;HTb, ynpaacHJiTb-
CH Bl. HCMl., 06pa30-
BaTb.
cultivation, culture, 06-
pa6oTbiBaHie, Bosfllfejibi-
BaHle, pa3Be;^eHie,
ynpajKHenie , ofipaao-
BaHHOCTb.
cunning, xHipbifi.
cup, lama, naniKa; —
board, uiKan-b.
cupidity, saAHOcxb, aai-
HOCXb.
curate, anKapHuS CBK-
curb, ^■t^0HKa (y MyH^-
mxyKa); to — , oSyaftH-
Baxb.
cure, npHxo^;!. (uepKOB-
Hblfi), CBHmeHHHHeCKaH
;^0JI!KH0cxb•, to — , Ba-
pHXb btj caxap'fe.
curiosity, jhoSohhxcxbo,
P'6;^K0CXb.
curious, jiioSonbixHbifi,
HCKyCHbiS, cxpaHHbifi.
curl, SyKJIH, JtOKOH-bj to
, BHXbCa, HSBHBaXb-
CH, BOJiHOBaxbCH; a —
ing ear, cornyxoe yuiKO.
currant, cMopo;^HHHbi3.
current, xeieaie; xeKy-
miS, xoRHHifi, BooSme
□pHHflXblg.
curry, «iHcxHxb rpe6Htmeio
(JIoma;^b).
curse, npoKJiaxie; to — ,
KJflCXb, npOKJIHHaXb. •
curst, CM. curse.
curved, cornyxbiS.
custody , cMoxptHie sa
i^MT), coxpaHCHie, aa-
KJioieHie, apecx'bjXiopb-
Ma.
custom, 06bIHafi, 06bIKH0-
HOBeHie;— ary, oShkho-
BeHHbift, ynoxpe6uxeJib-
HbiM; as 'is — ary, itaK'b
BOflHxcfl; — er, saitaa-
qHE-b , njiaxeJbmHKT.,
SHaKOMbifi, noKynaxejib.
cut, pasptSHsaxb ; to —
any one's throat, sa-
ptsaxb Koro, nepep'fe-
saxb Kosiy ropjio; to—
down, cpySaxb, cfflH-
iiaxb; to— from, oxp*-
BbiBaxb ox-b; to — off,
oxpisbisaxb, oxcfiKaxb,
oxpySaxb, jHoiaxb lero;
to — out, BbiptSbiBaxb;
to — to pieces, pasp'fi-
SblBaXb Ha KyCKH, H3-
ptSblBaXb Ha KyCOHKH,
pa36HBaxb B-b apeCesFH.
cylinder, i^njinHffp'b, sajt-b
cypress, KHuapHCB.
Cyprus, Kanpi..
czar, i^apb.
D.
d-ye (damn ye), y6Hpafi-
xecb Kx. Hepxy.
dagger, KHHstajt, Kopoi-
Ki8 Meq-B.
daily, Kaat/^uS senb, bch-
KiM ReHb, CO ;^Ha uk ffCHb,
H30-ftHH btj ReHb, p;eHb —
0x0— 'flHa, eKo;^HeBUbi8,
eHte;^HeBHo; the — bread,
HacymHbifi xjili6'b.
daisy, MaprapHXKa.
dale, jojiHHa, ftojT..
dame, 6apbiHa, rocnosa,
^aua, xosaMita.
damp, HcnapHHa; fire — ,
pyAHHiHuS rasT).
damsel, A'^Bni^a, Capbiinna.
dance, njiacKa, xaHeuxi',
to — , njiacaxb, laHi^o-
Baxb.
dancing, TannioBaHie, n^a-
caui?.
Dane, /^axHaHHHi..
danger, onacHocxb,— ous,
onacHbiS.
dangle, Kaiaxbca, tos.-
xaxbca.
Daniel, ll^&.nms.'b.
Danish, RaxcKifl.
Danube, flyHafi.
dare, cm^xb , /^epsaxb,
ocM'fejiHBaxbca; I — say,
MH* Kaaiexca.
daring, AepsHOBenHMS,
oxsajKHbiS.
dark, xeMHOxa, noxeMKH;
xeMHbiS; after — , no
HacxynjieHiH xewHOXbi;
— brown, xcMHoSypHfij
to — en, saxMtBaxb, no-
Mpanaxb;— ling, bi> no-
xeMKax-b; — ly, mpaqno;
— ness, xeMHOxa, xbiia,
MpaK-b.
darling, jnoSaMHfi.
dart, HcnycKaxb (jiyqa),
KH^axbca , uycKaxbCflj
to — off, ycKaKaxb, y-
Miaxbca.
dash, xjbinyxb, 6pocaxB-
CH, pasftaBJiHBaxb, paa-
SsBaxb; — ing, n^erojib-
CKo2 , BejrHKOJfftnHHifi;
the — ing, y^apeHie,
y/^ap'b•, the water kept
— ing in, Bo^a ae ne-
352
pecTasajia BjiHBaTtca;
to— against, ysapHTbca
o6i); to — down, Ton-
TaTb , pacTanTbiBaTJ.;
to — out, BBICOBHBaTb;
to — out any one's
brains , pa3/i,po5jiaTb
KOMy Hepent; to — to
pieces, pa36HBaTb b-b
3ipe6e3rH.
Cmte, HHCjro; to — , Hann-
CaXb HHCJO, CHIITaXb,
CHHXaTbCH.
daub, Masaxb, naHKaxb;
to — over, oSMasMBaTb.
daughter, rohb.
daWQ, pascBtTii, saps;
HaiaJio, HaiHHaHie.
day, A^Hb, BpeMa, 6HTBa,
noot^a; — break, pas-
CB'feT'BJ — light, RHeBHOfi
-CB'hTi.} one — , o;i,Haat-
;^h; to — , cero^Ha.
dazzle, oc.i'fenjiaTb, npe-
jibii;aTb.
dead, MepTBbiS,yMepmifi;
he was — , oh-b yMept;
in the -^ of the nighty
B-b rjiySoKyio H04b} to
kiss — , san.tJiOBaTb; to
shoot—, sacxp'fejiHBaTb;
— ly,CMepTe.iibHbiM, no-
MepXB'feJIblfi.
deafen, orjiymaxb, sarjiy-
niaxb.
deal, MHoasecTBOjejtOBbiS,
SomaxbiMj a great or
good — 5 MHOro, npe-
MHoro; to — , nocxynaxb
ch KiMi, pas^aBaTb;
to — a blow, HaHOCHXb
yffap-b.
dean, ReKamb.
dear, apyr-b; RoporoM, qtn-
Hblil, JIIoSeSHblH, MIUMli;
ffoporo; to do—, oGh-
Htaxb Koro; — me, o — ,
a3I eSl
death, CMepri.; — 's head,
MepxBaa roj[OBa.
debate, pacnpn, ccopa,
npcaie.
debt,Ji;ojir'B;Iaminyour — ,
fl y Bact BT) ROJiryj
— or, flOJIffiHHK'b,
decay, xji'hHie, rnienie,
ynaftoifb; to — , yBH-
«axb, yMenbuiaxbcH,npH-
xoRiixb BTb ynajtOKT,.
decease, itOHquHacMepTb;
— d, noKOUHHKTj, yiiep.
uiiu .
deceive, oSjianbiBaxb.
decent, npH^miHuft, npn-
cxofiHbiii, OjiaronpHCxoli-
Hblfi, CKpOMHblii.
deception, 3a6JIy^K(^eHie,
oOMan'b.
deceptive, oSMaHinBuS.
decide, ptmaxb.
decipher, pasSapaxb, toji-
KOBaXb.
decision, ptmeaie.
decisive, p'himixejibHHS.
deck, najiyfia, fleK-B;— ing,
yKpaiuenie, yOHpaaie.
declaim , fteKjiaimpoBaxb.
declamation, AeitjiaHauiifl.
declare, oOx^aBJiaxb, yBii'
paxb, oGtacHHTbca.
decline, yna/^oK-B) to — ,
ynaffaxb , CKjioHaxbca,
oxKasMEaxbca.
decorate, yicpamaxb, ySn--
paxb.
decoration, yKpameHie.
dedicate, nocBamaxb, no/^-
HOCHXb.
deed, A^aHie;— of blood,
KpoBaBoe 3JiOA*aHie.
deem , no^HTaxb ; to —
proper, 6JIaropa3cy;^nxb.
deep, rjiyGiina, rjiyGb; r.iy-
Ooiviil, HU3Kii1, rycxofi;
— , — ly, r;iy6oKo.
deer , omhb , Kpacnwfi
SBlfepb.
defeat, nopaseHie; to — ,
nopaacaxb, pasGaBaxb,
yim^ixoiKaxb, Bocnpenax-
CXBOBaXB.
defect, He/i;ocxaTOK'b, no-
poKT,; — ion, oxnaftenie,
oxjiOHtenie; — ive, ae-
AocxaxoiHbiS, Hey^OBJie-
XEopHxejiBHuS, Hecno-
co5nbi8.
defence, san^Hxa, oGopona;
to make a valiant — ,
xpaSpo oSoponaxbca;
—less, 6c33an^HXHiafi.
defend, 3an^ninaxb; — ant,
oxBlbTioKi,; ■ — er, sa-
mHXHHKT,.
defensive, oCopoHHxejb-
Hbifij to stand upon
the — , CM. stand.
defer, oxcpoHHBaxb, ox-
jiaraxb.
deficiency, He^ocxaxoKT..
deform, HSypoAOBa^b; —
ity, 6c3o6pa3ie, ypo/i;-
jri'iBOcxb.
defy; Bbi3biBaxb, npesa-
paxb.
degenerate , pasBpamen-
Hbift, pasBpaxiibifijto — ,
pa2Bpaiqaxbca, Bbipaat-
ftaxbca , HSMiHaxbca,
nopxiixbca.
degrade, ynninaxb ; — d
from the station, caB-
miS CB Toro MJBcxa.
degree, CTeneHb,rpaAyci>;
by — s, nocxenoHHo;
with a — of strength,
cxj cajioio.
deity, GoHtecxao.
dejected, yHWJibiir, ynae-
ujiii AyxoMT..
dejection, yiibinie.
delay, npoBojioiKa, ocxa-
HOBKa, Me^JIHXeJlbHOCTt;
— 353 —
to — , aaueffJiHTt, oTjia-
raTb.
deliberate, ofiAyMaHHwH;
to — , paacyatA'^Tb, 06-
flyMUBaxb; — ly, o6ffy-
MaHHO, Mefl,jieHH0.
deliberation, pascyiK^eHie.
delicate, H'tatHbiS, a\e-
KOTJIHBblfi, COMHHTeJb-
HHfi, onacHbiS.
delicious, cjiaAocTHuM,
npeBKycHbifi.
delight, BOCXHIHOHie,BOC-
Toprt, to — ,ycjiaffiftaTb,
BOCXHinaxb, yc;iaa?flaTb-
Cfl, BOCXHmaTbCH; —
_ i'ul , 0Tjiii<iHbiH, upe-
jiecTHbiM.
delinquent, saHOBHbiM bt.
npocTynKl;.
deliver, HsSaBJinTb, ocbo-
6oH!;i;aTb,OTAaBarb,Bpy-
HHTb, nepe^aBaTb, bh-
paaiaTb; to — up, bm-
ftaBaTb; — ance, ocbo-
6oH!/^eHie, HsSaBJieHie;
— er,ocBo6oAHTejb,H3-
SaBHTCJIb.
dell, ao-st) AOJiHHa.
demagogue, AeMaror-B.
demand , TpeSoBaaie ,
cnpocb; to — , Tpe6o-
BaTb ; to — in mar-
riage, CBaTaxbCH 3a.
demeanour, noBefleaie.
democratic, AeMOKpaTH-
HecKift,
demonstration, aoKasa-
TCJIbCTBO, HStaBJieHie.
denial, oTKaat.
Denmark, J^aniH,
denominate, aasbiBaxb,
HMeHOBaXb.
denomination, HanMeno-
BaHie, ceKTa.
denote^ osnaiaTb, noKa-
SblBaTb.
denounce, o6'£flBJiJiTb.
dense, rycxoS.
deny, oTpHuaxb, oxKasw-
BHTb, oxnHpaxbCH; who
would not be denied,
KOTopbiM HenpnHHMajn.
HUKaKHXTj oxKaaoBt.
depart, oxnpaBJiflTbCfl, 0-
CTaBJHTb; — ment, B'fi-
/^0MCTB0, oxpacjb (aa-
yKn); — ure, oxapaB-
jeaie.
depend upon, saBHcfixb
OTt lero, aa;^'feaxbcfl
aa 4x0; — ence, — ency,
3aBHCHMocxb,no;^qHaea-
Bocxfc, oxflajieaaoe BJia-
ataie; — ent, saaHCH-
mhA, saBHcamiS.
deplorable, njia^eaabig.
deportment, npieMu (b-b
o6pan;eaiH),BOBe/i;eaie.
depose, CBepraxb, oxpt-
maxb.
deposit, CCajKHBaXb, Bbl-
caJKHBaxb, BHSJiaraxb,
KJiacxb, cxaBHxb.
depredation, rpaSeafB,
rpaSaxejibCXBO.
depress, oxflromaxb, one-
•ja-UHBaxb.
deprive, jtamaxb.
depth, rjiy6Haa, rjySoKO-
Mbicjiie.
depute, nocHJiaTb, ox-
npaBJijixb.
deputy, /i;enyxaxT>,nocojii>,
nocjaBaHKij, nocjiaa-
awM, ^0CJIaae^•b, h3-
SpaaawS, BuSopabiS.
derange, paacxpoHaaxb.
deride, ocMtHBaxb.
derision, ocMtaaie, aa-
CM'BmKa.
derive, H3Bj[eKaxb, bw-
BOftHXb, nojiyqaxb, npo-
HSBOftHXb.
descend, cxosaxb, cny-
CKaxbca, npoHCxoAHXb,
BecXH CBOK poATb ox-b;
— ant, noxoMOKT..
descent, aacxoHCAeHie,
npoHCxoffl;^eaie, cxo/^'I.,
cnycKt, cnycKaaie.
describe, onHcuBaxb; not
to be — d, aeabipasH-
Mbiii.
description, onacaaie,
descry, ycMoxptxb, aa-
BHR'fiXb.
desert, nycxwaa, bboSh-
xacMufi; to — , dokh-
/(axb, ocxasjiflxbj 6-&-
Htaxb.
deserve , sac^yacusaxb ;
— d , sacjiyaeaaBia ;
— dly, /(ocxofiao.
design, npe/i;npiaxie, aa-
Mtpeaie, yMuceji'B, aa-
4epxaaie, npoeKX-bj to
— , BamipeBaxbCH.
desirable, HteaaxejibBBifi.
desire, sejiaaie; to — ,
atejiaxb, npocuxb, npn-
Kasbiaaxb; to — one's
best compliments to
any one, 3acBH;^'BxeJIb-
cxBOBaxb KOMy cBoe
noHxeaie.
desirous, aeJiaioii^iM; as it'
— , KaKT. 6bi Hcejaaj
to be — of, ffiejiaxb Hero.
desist, oxcxaBaxb, nepe-
cxaBaxB.
desk, Koaxopna.
desolate, nycxoS, aeofiH-
xaeMwS.
desolation, onycxomeaie.
despair, oxqaaaie; to —
of, oxiaflBaxbCfl bi..
despatch, oxnpaBjaxb.
desperate , oxHaaaaHfij
— ly, oxqaaaao.
despise, npesapaxb.
despite, Roca^a, saoGa;
to do — , flocaffiRaTb
45
354 —
KOMy, ORasueaTb KOMy
SJIO.
dessert, ReccepTt.
destination^ HasHageme.
destine, Ha3HaHaTb,onpe-
RtJIHTb.
destiny, cyab6a, yqacTb.
destitute, jtanieHHtiS.
destroy, paspymaxb, y6H-
BaTb, HCTpe6jiaTb, yHH-
HTOHtaTb.
destru ction,HCTpe6aeHie,
destructive.paapyuiHTejib-
hmS, rySHTejibHbifi.
detach, oTfttJiKTb, oTpH-
HtaTbj — ment, OTpa;^i..
detail, noffpo6HOCTb; to
— , noflpoSHO pascKE-
SblBaXb.
detain, saAepacQBaTb.
deter, yAepHtuBaxb.
determine, pfimaTb, p*-
IliaTbCH,HaM'fipeBaTbCH,
d, p'filUHTe.IbHHfi,
cii*jh8; to be — d, h-
MiTb HaMtpenie, pi
niHTbCH.
detestation, oTBpameHie,
HenaBHCTb.
dethrone, cBepraxb ci.
npecTOJia,
devastation.onycTomeHie .
devil, nepTT., sbHBOJn>;
he was in a — of a
fright, OHT. yatacHO ne-
penyraJicfl, ght. 6biJi-b
B'b ysKacHOMt cTpax*,
devious, ynjiOHaiomift,
coBpamaion^ifi.
devise, npH^yMbiBaTb.
devote, nocBamaTb; — d,
nepe;;aHHbifi; — dly, cb
^pe;^aHH0CTbIO| — e,xaH-
sta, HsyBtp-b.
devotion, GjiaroroRtnie,
npeffaHHOCTbjto perform
one's — 9, MOJIHTbCfl.
devour, noatnpaTb, norjio-
maTb.
dew, poca; — y, pocH-
CTblH.
dexterity, jioBKocTbj —
at sword and pistol,
HCKyccTBO o6pamaTbCfl
mnarofi EnHCTOJieTOMT).
dexterously, jiobko.
diadem, RiaseMa, i^ap-
CkIS BtHei^T>.
dialect, Haptiie, ^ia-
JieKXT..
dialogue, pasrosopi..
diameter, siaMeTpi.,
diamond, ajiMaat; SpHJi-
aiaHTOBwM.
diary, AHeBHHK-b, ^o;^eH-
HHK'B.
dice, CM. die.
dictation , npHKasanle,
yKasanie, ^HKTOBKa.
dictionary, cjiosapb, jieK-
CHKOH'b.
did, didst, cm. do.
die , urpajibHaa KOCTb;
to — , yMHpaTb, H3flbl-
xaxb, oKajtBaTb, aa
cbixaxb, Banyxb; to —
a martyr, yMHpaxb
MyienHKOM'bjto — away,
yxHxaTb.
differ, pa3HCTE0Baxb,pa3-
jiiqaxbca, ne corjia-
uiaxbca; — ence, paa-
jiHiiej — ent, pasJiHi-
HuS, ffpyroH, Hecorjiac-
HHu; to take a —ent,
turn, npHHHMaxb Rpy-
rofi oSopox-b.
difficult, xpynHuS, 3a-
xpyaHHxejibHbiS, My-
ApeHbiHj — of access,
MaJio;i;ocxynHbi3, iiajo-
npHCxynHbiS} — y,xpy/i;-
Hocxb, saxpyftHCHie,
saxpyftHHxejibHoe no-
jiOffieHie; with — y,
cb xpy^OMT., HacHjy.
diffuse, pacnpocxpaHflxb,
pasSpafflHBaxbCH.
diffusion, pacnpocxpaHenie .
dig, Konaxb, to — out,
to — up, BURanuBaTb.
dignified, noqxeHHwfi, ao-
cxoShhS yBaateHiH.
dignity, AocxoHHcxBOjCaHt,
dilate, pacrampaxbca.
diligence, npHJieacaHie,
AHJIHJItaHCb.
diligent , npnjiesHbiM ;
— ly, npHJieatHO.
dim, xycKJiHS, xeMHMfi;
— ly, xeMHO.
diminish, yueHbinaTb, y-
6aBaaxb.
diminution, yMeHbrnenie.
din, myM-b, cxyKi., cxy-
KOXHa, ryjiT. } to — ,
orjiyniaxb.
dine, oStAaxb.
dinner, oCigT,.
diocese, enapxia.
dip, norpyataxb, OKy-
Hyxb.
diplomatic, ]i,vinjousiTa-
HecKiB.
dire, ymacHbiS.
direct, npawoS, Hsno-
CpeACTBeHHblfi} to — ,
HanpaBJiaxb, yKasbi-
BaXb , pyKOBOACXBO-
Baxb, oSpamaxb, npa-
Kasbisaxb ; to — a
punishment, pacnopa-
fflaxbca HaKaaaHieMT.;
— ion, HanpaBjeHie,
HacxaBJieaie, aspecb;
from all — ions, co
Bcfixt cxopoHTjj — ly,
ceSnacb, xoxiact.
dirk, KaHataJT. (y UIot-
jiaHAii;eBi>).
dirt, rpa3b; — y, rpaa-
hhS; to — y, aarpaa-
HaTb, aauaHKaxbj he
355 -
had his boots — ied,
Buy canorH Cmjih aa-
naHKaHH.
disable, a^-^^'TI' necno-
cpSntiM-b.
disagreeable, HenpiflTHbiH.
disappear, Hcqesaxb.
disappoint, o6MaHWBaTb
Bt offlH^aHiH; — ment,
oCMaHyxoe oHtHAaHie,
pasoHapOBaHie-, Hey/jaia^
disarm, ofiesopyffinBaxb-,
they — ed him of his
knife, ohh othhjih y
Hero HOffiTj.
disaster, neciacTie, 3JI0-
nojiyqie.
disastrous, etftCTBCHKHfi ,
HeciacTHbifi.
disbelieve, ne BtpnTb.
discern, pasjiuHaTb, pac-
nosHaBaxb.
discharge , BHcxp'feji'b ,
3aJini>, KBHxaHi^ifl; a
full — , KBHXaHI^iH B-b
nojiyHeHlH scero cnoji-
Ha, to — J BblCXptJIH-
Baxb
BwnjiaHHBaxb,
HSJIHBaXbCa, BJHBaXbCH,
BnaAaxb.
disciple, yienaKi..
discipline, Ai^ci^nnjiiiHa;
to — , oSyqaxb.
disclosure, oxKpbixie.
discolour,JrHiiiaTb KpacKH
discomfit, pa36nBaxb, pas-
cxpoHBaxb; — ure, pas-
Caxie, nopaateHie.
discomfort , 6e3noKoM-
Hocxb, nenajib.
disconcert,pa3CTpoBBaxb,
CMymaxb.
disconsolate, 6e3yx*ni-
Hbifij with a — air,
HaxMypHBniHCb.
discontent, Hey;^0B0JIb-
cxBie; — ed, He;^OBOJIb-
HblS.
discord, Hecorjacie, pa3-
flop-b; — ant, paanorjiac-
HMfi, He6jiaro3ByHHbi8.
discourage, Jinmaxb 6o;^-
pocxH h;ih jiyffiecxBa,
npHBOAHTb btj yHHHie;
— ment, jTHUienie oxo-
xbi, cxpan^anie.
discourse , pasroBop-b,
ptHb, cxaxbfl.
discover, oxKpbiBaxb, o6-
HapystHBaxb, ysaaBaxb,
ycMaxpHBaxb; — y, ox-
KpHxie.
discretion, daroycMo-
xptnie, npoH3BOJii>.
discuss, pa36Hpaxb, 06-
cyffiRaxb} — ion, yne-
HbiS cnopij, npeHie, h3-
cjitAOBaHie,o6cyfflAeHie.
disdain, npeHe6peatCHie,
npe3p*Hie.
disease, fiojitsHb.
disengage, oTBaswBaxb,
ocBo6offiJtaxb, ocBo6oa:-
flaxbca.
disgrace, 6e3Hecxie;to— ,
jiHiuaxb M0JIOCXH, no-
na^axb b^ neMHJiocxfc,
ocpaMJiaxb ce6fl, 6e3-
HecxHTb,o6e3"ien^HBaxB,
yHHfflaxb.
disguise, nepeo^tBaHie,
MacKapoBanie, JiHHHHa;
to — , npHKpbiBaxb, Ma-
cimpoBaxb.
disgusting, oxBpaxaxejib-
HblS, npOXHBHblS.
dish, 6jLiO]5,o, KyuiaHbe.
dishearten, npHBORHxb bi>
oxiaaHie; to be — ed,
ynacxb ^yxoMii.
dishevelled, npocxoBOJio-
CHft, pacxpenaHHBifi.
dishonour, 6e3qecxie, no-
sop-b.
disinclined, ncpacnojio-
SeHHblfi.
disjoin. pasHHMaTB, paa*
pbiBaxb.
dislodge, nepecejiHTLca,
Bbicxynaxb.
dismal, yrpioMbiS, cKyq-
hhB, neqajibHuM,y)Kac-
HblS.
dismay,CMymeHie,CTpakT.j
to — , CMymaxb, ycxpa-
maxb.
dismiss, oxnycKaxb.
dismount, cjtsaxb cb,
cxOAHXb CB (JIOma;^H),
c6HBaxb CB KOHH, cca-
jKHBaxB CB Jioma/^H.
disobedience , Henocjty-
manie, HenoBBHOBenie.
disobedient, ocjiymHufi,
HenoKopHwfi.
disobey, ne noBHHOBaxbca ,
ocjiyiuHBaxBca.
disorder , fiesnopa^oKi.;
— ed, B-B 6e3nopaj^K*;
— ly, 6e3nopa;^OHHBi8.
dispatch, nocntiuHOCTb;
to make — jnocntmaxb.
disperse, pasctBaxB, pa3-
cbinaxB, pacxo;5HXbca;
— d, pa3cfeaHHBifi.
display, BbiKasaHie, no-
Ka3T>5 to — , BHKa3H-
Baxb, oxKa3HBaxbj bu-
cxaBJiaxb.
displease, ne HpaBHTbca;
— d, HCROBOJIbHblfi.
disposal, pacnopajseHie.
dispose,pacnojiarax»; — r,
pac^opa/^HxeJIb, Bja-
cxHxejtb (BceacHHofi).
disposition.pacnopaateHle,
pacnojioffleHie, HpaBi..
disputant, /^Hc^yxaHx■B,
cnopmHK-B.
disputation, cocxasanie,
npcHie.
dispute, cnopij; to — , oc-
napHBaxB; cnopnxb, co-
cxasaxbCfl (0 hSui).
--,356 —
disqualification, Hecno-
coShoctI).
disregard, npeHe6peraTb
dissatisfied,He;toBOJikHi>i3
dissension, pasjiopt, pa-
cnpH.
dissent, necorjiacie; to — ,
He corjiamaTbCH; — er,
RHCCeHTepi. , HHOBt-
pei?!.; — ing, p;HCceH-
TepCKiS, HHOBtpHUfi,
HH0B*p»ieCRi8.
dissipated, pacTOHHTCji.-
hhS, pacnyTHHS.
dissipation, pacTcieHie,
paCTOIHTeJIbHOCTB. MO-
TOBCTBO.
dissolate, pasBpaTHwft.
dissolution, ynaqTOHteHie,
npeKpamenie.
dissolve, npepwBaTb, npe-
KpamaTb , pacnycKaxb.
dissuade, orcoBtTOBaxb,
oxroBapHBaTb.
distance, paacjoHHie, OT-
^lajreHHOCTb, OTjajteHie.
distant, 0TAajteHH£i3, Ha
pascTOHHin.
distil, flHCTHjnpoBaTb.
distinct, BHaTHw8,HCHHfi,
pasjiHHHuS; —ion. pas-
jiHiie, OTjHiie, OTJinq
HOCTb; — ive, otjhhh-
TeJbHHfi; — ly, BHHTHO,
HCHO.
distinguish , orjHqaTb,
paajiHiaTb; — able,pa3-
jiHiaeMH8,OTjiHHaeMbi8;
— ed, oTJiHiBbiS, 3Ha-
mchhthS.
distort, o6e3o6pastHBaTb.
distract, OTEJieKaxb; — ed,
cyMaciueAmiS.
distress, 6*Aa, HyH;ia,
6'hACTBie,HecHacTiejCo-
KpymeHie , KpafiaocTb;
to - , coKpymaxb, cxtc-
HHTb; — ed, HecjacTHBiM.
distribute, pa3RaBaTb,pa3-
S^jaxb.
distribution,pa3AaHa,pac-
npeA*JieHie.
district, OL-pyri., cxpana,
ofijiacTb.
disturb, xpeBOHtHTb, Ses-
noKOHXb, Mtraaxb; — er,
HapyiuHxejtb cnoKoft-
CTBia.
disuse, oxyqaxbCfl, ox-
BWKaxb.
ditch, poBt, KanaBa.
dive, — down, Hbipaxb.
diversify, pa3Hoo6pa3HXb.
divert, oxEjenaxb; —ing,
3a6aBHbiS.
divide, pa3A'feJiaxb (into,
Ha), pasR'feJiHXbCH} to be
— d, pacxoflHXbcaj to —
from, oxstJiaxb' ox-b.
dividend, jf^HEHflen?;!..
divine, AyxoEHaa, 6oHtecx-
BeHHwfi; the — Spirit,
Jlyx-b CBaxbifi.
diving, HbipaHie, Bo^o-
jiasHHHaHie.
divinity,6oa!ecxBeHHocxb.
division, pa3fl*jieHie, rh-
BHsia.
divorce, pasBOfl'b; to — ,
pa3B0/^HXb, y;i;ajraxb,
dizzy, orjiyiuaxb.
do, A*.iaxb, yHHHaxb, ffifi-
cxBOBaxb, nocxynaxbj
coBepmaxb, HcnojaaTb,
0Ka3biBaxb, noHtHBaxb,
roAHXbca; — I, — you,
ffa? B-b caMOM-b fltJili?
— pray, noHajryScxa,
npouiy Bacb ; — you
like, Jiio6Hxe jih Bm
HpaBHxca JH Baia-b? and
— unto others as they
would be done by, h
nocxynaxb ct. flpyrHMH,
KaKTj OHH XOXtJIH, 4X0-
6bi nocxynajiH ct hhmh;
how can we — without,
KaKTj HaM-b atHXb Sest;
how little that would — ,
Han't MaJio b-b axoin.
noj[b3H) I — not (coKp,
don't) know, a He snaio;
this counsel may —
you good, 9X0X1, co-
Btxi Moatexii 6HXb
BaM-b nojesHbiM-b; phi-
lanthropists did not
regard, oHJianxponw ne
cqHxajTHj to — aservice,
0Ka3axb ycjryry; to —
dear, oCHHtaxb Koro;
to — harm, npHqanaxb
Bpe^-b; to — one's end-
eavour, cxapaxbCH.
docility, nepetiMiHBOcxb.
dock, noKi>, xaKste Micxo,
r^t cxoax'bno;;cyffHMHe
BO BpcMa nonpoca,
«CKaMba 06BHHeHHHX'Ii».
doctor, BpaHi., ROKxcp-b}
— of Law, 4oKxop'b
HpaBOB'feA'feHia; to — ,
BpaneBaxb, jreiHTb.
doctrine, yqenie.
document, noKyMeHx-b.
does, CM. do.
dog, co6aKa; the — days,
KaHHKyjTbij — eared, ct
safiHraMH (o KHHt*);
— sleep, npocoHKH; —
wolf, co6aKa-BO:iK'b.
doleful, yHHjrwS, say-
HblBHUS.
dollar, xajiep-b.
domain, HMtnie, hbabh-
jKHMoe HMtnie.
dome, Kynojit.
domestic, JHOaamsiHi.
domination,BjiaAbiqecxBo.
domineering, noBCJiHxejib-
hhR, BjacxoJiK)6nBHfi.
dominion, BJIa;^'fiHie, roc-
^o;^cxBO, BJIa;^H<^ecxBO.
k
done, CM. do; c;^*JIaHHw8,
rOTOBWfi, KOHHeHHUS;
6biocfa, flepaty, coraa-
ceHT.! I have — extreme-
ly well, R notjiTj
HpesBbinafiHO xopouio;
the story is not yet
— , pascKasT. eme hb
KOHqen-b; to have — ,
nepecTaBaxb, KOHHHTb,
6MTb rOTOHMM-b.
donkey, ocejn..
don't, CM. do not.
doom, ocywAaTb.
door, nsepb; in — s, with-
in — s, Bt ftOMib, ;^0Ma3
to go in — s, npHxo-
BHTb ffOMoS; out of — s,
, hstj Aowa, CO RBopa;
— step, BepxHflfl CTy-
neHb.
dose, saBaxb JieKapcTBO.
dot, TOHKa,
doth, CM. do.
doable, RBofiHofij to — ,
o6r06aTb , o6xoflHTb;
to — on the enemy's
ships, nocraBHTb nacTb
HenpiflTejibCKHX'b ko-
pa6jiea Meatffy Rsyx-b
ornefi; —barreled, ^By-
CTBOJIbHwS.
donbt, coMHtHie; to — ,
coMHtBaxbCKj no— , —
less, 6e3T> coMHiHia;
— fw-l, coMHtBaiomificfl,
coMHHTCJibHbiS; to be
— ful of, coMHtBaxbca
Ha cqeTTj qero.
down, BHHS'b, BHHSy; —
right, npaMoft, HBHbiMj
Dows,JI|iohh; — stairs,
BHH3'b no JltCTHHi;*,
BHH3y; — to, Ro; — y,
nyniHCTbiS.
dozen, RioacaHa.
Dr., coKp. Doctor, ^ok-
TOp-B.
— 357 — .
draft out, BHxoAHXbj bm
pwBaxbca (o BOSAyxlb)
drag, xamnxb; to — out
BHxacKHBaxb; to — up
BCXaCKHBaXb.
drainage, RpeHaacb, no^-
noMBeHHaa ocyiuKa bo-
ROxaraMH.
dramatist, flpaMaTHK'i>,co-
HHHHxejib spaMTb, Apa-
MaxH'iecKiS nncaxejib.
drank, cm. drink.
draught, xamenie, sese-
Hie; — animals, pa6o-
lifi CKOTTi.
draw, xHHyxb, xamHXb,
BeaxH, npHRBuraxb, bu-
HHMaxb,o6Haffiaxb(mna-
ry), npoBOAHXb (xpan-
HieH); to — any one's
attention to, ofipamaxb
ibe BHHMaHie Ha; to —
ashore , BbixacKHBaxb
Ha Sepertj to — breath,
AHmaxb; to — close
to any one, npHSH-
MaxbCH ktj TOMy; to —
from, H3BJieKaTb, cxa-
CKHBaxb Cb, Hcxopraxb
(y Koro CJe3H); to —
near , npHSjiHHtaxbCH;
to — on, HaBJieKaxb,
saKaHHBaxb , npH6jiH-
HtaxbCs,noAXOAHTb;to —
one's cloak around one,
3aBepHyxbCH Bi. cboio
UIHHeJIb; to — out, Bbl-
XaCKHSaXb, BUHHMaXb,
H3BJteKaXb , ' BblMaHH-
Baxb, BuxOAHXb; to —
through , npoA*Baxb,
npoxacKHBaxb, npoBO-
jiaKHsaxb } to — to a
close, to — towards a
period, KOHiaxbca, npa -
XOAHXb KTj KOH^y; to
— up, noAHHMaxb, h3-
BJiCKaxb, qepnaxb, Ha-
HepxuBaTb , nHcaxB ,pa9-
ropaxbca; to — up an
army, cxpoHXb, bu-
cxpaHBaxb, nocxpoHXb
BoftcKO ; to — up the
beach, BCxacKHBaxb na
Ceper-b ; it drew from
him this acknowledg-
ment, 9X0 3acxaBHj[0
ero CA^Jiaxb cjtAYK)-
mifi oxsbiBT.) —bridge,
noAiieMHbiH mocxtj ;
— er , BHABHHtHoS a-
mHKt; — ing, pacoBa-
Hie, pHcyHOKt.
drawl, njiecxHCb Hora sa
Hory.
drawn, cm. draw.
dread, cxpax-b, CoasHb;
to — ,cxparaHXbCH; — ed,
— ful , cxpaniHbift ; —
fully, cxpauiHO.
dream, cHOBHAliHie, cohij
to — , BHAtXb BO CH*,
sjeqxaxb.
dreamt, cm. dream-
dreary, nycxbiS, CKyq-
hhS, ApeMyiiS.
drench, npoMainBaxb; he
was well —ed, ero no-
pa Akomij npOMOHHJIO.
dress, OAeatAa . ySopt,
HapaA'b ; riding — , o-
AeffiAa R-t^ BcpxoBofi
tSAw; to — , OA^Baxb,
Hapafflaxbjto — a wound
nepCBHSHBaxb panyj;
to — one's self up,
HapflffiaxbCH HtM-b; —
ing, box, TyajieTHHfi
an^HKi.; — ing room,
yfiopHaa.
drew, CM. draw.
drift along, ApeiiftOBaxb,
HecxHCb;
drill, BHyjHBaxb, o6y-
Haxb (pystbH) H np.)
drink, naxbc, HanaxoKi.;
». 358 —
to — , HHTt; to — any
one's health, hhti. sa
nhe 3,'(opoBi.e; the vul-
gar eagerly drank in
tales, npocTofi HapoaT>
Cl> HanpfljKeHHBIMtBHH-
uanieuit BMCjiymHBaj[T>
pascKasM.
drip, KaQaxB, HaKanw-
Barb.
drive, rnaTt. BeSTH, ;ipa-
BHTbj rOHHTBCH, 0X0
THTbCK, TpaBHTb, ^0-
Bo;i;HTb, Kpefi*OBaTb,
HecTHCb, CHOCHTb; to —
a good bargain, bh-
roffHO CToproBaTbTs; to
— away,OTroHflTb,npo-
roHHTb, y*3fflaTb, to —
back, nporoHHTb, ot-
CHBaxb, orpaataTb; to
— from, croHflTb ct>;
to — on, noroHHTb,
notxaxb; to — on shore,
jipeM*OBaTb Ha eepert;
to — out, BHrOHflTb,
HsroHHTb; to — up,
noAttSHtaTb} drove it
entirely from his mind,
sacxaBHJio ero coBep-
nieHHO 3a6wTb o6'b
stomtj ; the snow w^as
— n about by whirl-
winds, BHXpHMH CHtr-B
Hecjio; they were — n,
Hxt CHecjo; — r, Ky-
nepi., HSBOmHKt.
driven, cm. drive.
droop, noB-bCHTb rojiOBy.
drop, Kanjia; to — , po-
HHTb, ypoHHTb, ony-
CKaxb, BbinycKaxb, no-
BajiHBaxbCb, cna^axb.
HenaHKHO BUMOJIBHXb
(cjioBeiKo); to — out of
any thing, oxcxaBaxb
OXT. qero.
drove, CM, drive; — r,
no;5roHn;HK'l>,cnoxHHK'B,
naciyx-B,
drown , xonyxb ; — ed,
yxonjieHHBiS-.tobe— ed,
yxoHyxb.
drug, aejie, anxoKapcKoe
cHa«o6be,MocKoxHjibHbiM
xoBapi).
Druid, ffpysAi. C»pe^t),•
— , — ical, ApyHflCKifi.
dram, 6apa6aHi>; — mer,
6apa6aH^^HK'B.
drank, —en, cm. drink;
nbflHbifi; — ard, nba-
HHi^a} — enness, nbHH-
CXBO.
dry, cyxoft; to — , cy-
niHXb, BbicyniHBaxb; to
rub — , BHXHpaxb na
cyxo; — footed, ci> cy-
XHMH HOraMH.
dacat, HepBOHeuTi.
duchess, repuornHa.
duck, yxKa; to — , OKy-
HHBaXb.
due, AO^iscHoe; noamsa^,
AocxoAoaatHKifi, Ha^Jie-
aramifi; is justly — ,
HaAo6HO no cnpaBeRJiH-
BOCXH OXHeCXH Kt.
dug, CM, dig,
duke, repn.ori.,
dull, rayxofi, 6e3X0JiK0-
Bblft.
dump, neiaJTb, 3affyMHH-
BOCXb,
dung-cart, HaBOSHaa xe-
jitra.
darable, npoMHHB,
duration, npoRoaaHxejib-
HOCXb.
during, bo BpeMa, bt}
npo^ojiffieHie,
durst, CM. dare.
dusk, cyMepKH.
dust, nwjib,
Dutch, FOJiJaHACKig; the
— , FojiJiaHfli^u.
duty, jojir-b, o6a3aHHOCTl.,
jIojiJKHOcxb, nouiJHHa;
to be at one's post of — ,
6MXb npn CBoeMT) Micx*.
dwell, oCnxaxb, SHxt;
— ing, HtBjTume.
dwindle, Hcxo^^axI>cfl•, to
— away, qaxnyxb.
d'ye, CM. do you.
dye-stuff, KpacHJbHoe bc-
mecxBo.
dying day, ^eHb cMepx'n,
jeub kohihhm; — speech,
npeACMepxHMfl cJOBa.
12.
each, KasAHfi; on — side,
Cb xofi H ApyroS cxo-
poHbi; — other, Rpyr-B
Apyra.
eager, peBHocxHuS, nbui-
KiS, ropaiiS', naAKiS, '
jiio6onMXHHS; — ly, co
pBenieMT., ycepAHO, Cb
ataAHOCxbH); he listened
— ly, 0H1> CO BHHMa-
HioMTi cjiymajr-bj — ly
to request, y6'fiA0Tejib-
HonpocHxb;— ness.peB- ,
Hocxb, pBeaie, ycepAie,
acaAHOcxb; to hear with
— ness, BMCjiynjHBaxb
CO BHHMaHieMT..
ear, yxo, yniKO, py^Ka;
reached his — s, ao-
nijio AO Hero.
earl, rpatij (anrjiificKifi).
early, pauHia, GjaroBpe-
MBHHbifijnpeffiHift, ApeB-
niS ; paHO, paHOBpe-
MCHHO,
earn, BwpaCoxMBaxb, sa-
pafioxBiBaxb, HaacHBaxb}
— ings, BHpa6oxKa.
earnest, cepbesauS, saa-
— 359 —
hhS, ycepflHuS, ycHJb-
HwM; in — , cepteano,
ycepflHo; in good—, in
right — , cepbesHO , bt.
caMOMT. A*Jii, He njy-
Tfl, Seat ruyTOKTj; — ly,
ycHjibHO,HacToaTejibHO.
earth, semjiH, rjHHaj —
enware, rjHHflHas no-
cy;^a; — ly, 3eMHoS.
ease, cnoKoScTBie» oSjier-
HCHie, HOKofi, OTffblXTj}
to — , oSjieriaTb, hs-
GasjiaTbj he felt, more
at — , eny CTaao Jierqe.
easily, aerKO.
east, BOCTOKT., BOCTOqHblS,
Kt BOCTOKy) East In-
dia Company, Octt.-
HH;^CKafl KoMnaHiflj —
em, BOCTOHHbiS; —
wai'd, Bt BocTOKy.
easy, JiendS, y/^o6HH8,
cnoKoMHbifi , JOBKiS,
pa3Bfl3HbiHj to make
one's mind — , ycno-
ROHBaTbCfl.
eat, *CTb, KynzaTb; to —
— one's supper, yata-
Haxb.
eaten, cu. eat.
eccentricity, cxpaaHocTb,
npaqysJiHBOCTb.
Ecclesiast, dKjesiacTb.
ecclesiastic , ^y^oBHoe
jiHi^e, ffyxoBHwM; — al,
i^epKOBHbiM, RyxoBHbiB.
echo, OTrOJIOCOK-b, 9X0.
economical, xosaMcxBeH-
HbiS:.
economist, 9K0H0iti>, c6e-
peraTeJib.
economize, Sepeib; to-
time , BbiarpbiBaTb
Bpewa.
economy, skohomIr, xo-
saficTBO, OepeafJtHBOCTb.
eddy, KpyTHxbca.
edge , ocTpee , jresBee,
Kpafi, onymKu (y atca).
edict, yKasT), noBejitHie.
edifice, s^aHie, CTpoeHle.
edition, HSAaHie.
editor, Hssaxejib, pe;^aK-
Top-b.
educate, BocnHTHBaxb.
edncation, BocnHtaaie; a
man of — , lejiOB'fiK'b
oSpaaoBaHHwH; — al,
BOcnHTaTejibHbiS.
educe, BbiBO;^HTb, aSBjie-
Kaxb.
Edward, SAyap^^-B.
e'en, cm. even.
e'er, cm. ever.
effect, ff'fiiicTBie, CJI'b;^-
CTBie; to have an — ,
npOH3BO/5HTb ji'fiHcTBie,
HMiTb B.iiaHie; with
what — , KaKoe ^ia-
CTBie 6biJ0 np0H3Be-
^eHOj — s, iiohehtkh;
to — , npoH3Bo;i;HTb,
npHBOffHTb BT) ;^'fiH-
CTBO, coBepmaib, co-
R'fijIHBaTb, HCnOJHHTb,
npHHHHaTb;— ual, ;^'6a-
CTBHTejibHbiS; would be
— ual in, 6y;^yTb HMtTb
CJI'fi;^CTBieM'b; — ually,
RtKCTBHTejbHO, CUabHO.
effeminate, pa3H'i&ffiHBaTb,
pascjiaSjaxb.
effervescence, BcnbiJiHH-
BOCTb.
efficacioas, nojie3Hbi3.
efficacy, A^ScxBie.
efficient, RiScxByiomifi,
ff'feScxBHxejibHbifi, no -
jiesHbiii.
effort, ycHjie, Hanpaate-
Hie.
egg, hMho.
Egypt, EraneTi,.
eight, BoceM-b) — een, bo-
ceMHafti](axb; — eenth,
BOceMHajii^axbiS; — h,
ocbMofi; an— h, OAHa
ocbMaa; — y, B0ceMb;^e-
caxb.
either, jh6o, hjh, Toxt
HJiH ;^py^o8, Kaatffufi;
— or, jn6o..JiH6o, hjih..
HJH, H..H} not — .,or,
HH..HH,
eject, H3BepraTb, Buro-
HflXb.
eke, xaKate, Toate.
elapse, ncxeBaxb, npoxo-
flHXb.
elastic, ynpyriS, gjacxH-
HCCKiM; — ity, ynpy-
rOCXb, 9JiaCXH1H0CT6.
elbow, jioKoxb.
elder, cxapmifi; — ly,
noat0j[ofi.
eldest, cxapuiiS,
Eleanor, Sjieonopa.
elect, HsSapaxb, bu6h-
paxbj— ion, naSiipaBie,
BbiSopi..
elegance, Bsan^HocTb^
npiaxHOCxb.
elegant, KpacnBu3.
element, aaiaao, sjie
MeaxT., cxHxla} — ary,
nepBOHanaJibHbiS, 9ie-
MenxapHbiS, JierKiS.
elephant, c^H-b.
elevate, BosBumaTb.
elevation, B03BbiuieHie.
eleven, ORHHHaA^axb;— th,
OAHHHafli;axHS.
Elijah, Hjiba.
Elizabeth, EaHcaBexa;—
an, EjiHcaBexHHCKia.
elocution, Kpacnop'fiqie.
eloquence, Kpacnop'Sqie.
eloquent, Epacaop'biHBufi.
else, Apyroe, HHa^e, a to.
'em, CM. them,
embankment, aacunb, nJio-
Tuaa.
embark, aocaKaxb aa so-
— 360 —
pafijib, HarpyataTb (to-
Bapu), CfeCTb Ha KO-
pa6j(b, BBflSKTBaTbCH BO
■iTO ; in which his
whole property was —
ed, HI) KOTOpOMli OH'b
yiacTBOBajit BCfiMt
CBOHMTj HMymeCTBOM'b;
to — for, oxnpaBJiaTbCH
Ha KopaCji* Bi>.
embarrass, saTpyAHAxb.
embassy, nocoabCTBo.
embellish, yitpamaTb.
embezzle, yxaHBaTb.
emblazoning, repfioBaa
SHrypa.
emblem, 3M6jieMa, cbm-
BOJ'b.
embody, BKJiioiaTb.
embrace^ oSHHuaTb, nojib-
BOBaTbCa, npHHHluaTb.
emigrant, BbixoAen;!., ne-
peceieaeHTj-, BMHrpaHTi),
nepeceJifliomiMca; —
ship, cy/^H0 cjiysamee
/^JIa nepeB03KH nepece-
jieHi^eBi) (BMHrpaa-
TOBrb).
emigrate, nepeceJiaTbca.
eminence, BbicoTa, bos-
BuaiCHie.
eminent, BHcoKifi, bos-
BBimeHKblS, 0TJIH4Hbl8,
iipeBOCXOAHHfl; — ly^cpe-
BOCXOAHO , OTMtHHO,
HpesBbiHafino, bt. bw-
coKoS CTcneHH.
emperor, HMnepaxopi..
emphasis , Hanpa^seHie
rojioca.
empire, HMoepla, i];ap-
CTBO, rocy^apcTBO,
BJiaCTb.
employ, ynoTpefijiHTb,
saHHMaTb) — ment, yno-
TpeCjEBHie, saHHTie.
empower , ynojiHOMOHH-
BaTb.
empress, HMnepaxpEi^a.
empty, nycxoS.
emulation, copesHOBaHie.
enable, A^BaTb bosmok-
HocTb; to be — d, 6HTb
B-B COCTOaHiH, MOIb.
enact, ysaKonaxb, npe^,-
nacbiBaxb saKOHOMii.
encamp, pacno-iaraxbCH
cxaHOMT. HJiH jiarepeMt.
enchant, oSBopaKHBaxb,
oqapoBHBaxb;
— er
5
er's
B0JIIlie5HHK'b; -
wand, MaraqecKifi ajia
BOJitueSHbiS ffiesji'b.
enclose, OKpyataxt.
enclosure, oropoaeeHHoe
M'fecxo, orpafta.
encomium, noxBaaa, no
xBajibHoe CJiOBO.
encounter, Bcxptiaxb,
npucxynaxb , nana^axb
Ha Koro, npeoffOJi'fiBaxb,
npexepn-fiBaxb, cxBa-
xMBaxbca, cpaffiaxbca;
the ship — ed a se-
vere gale of wind, ko-
pafijib GhiAi, Hacxnr-
HyXl) SeCXOKHMTi B*-
XpOMTj.
encourage, oSoApaxb, no-
on^paxb; we need —
no dejection, HaMt ne
AJia 9ero yabiBaxb; —
ment^ oSoApeaie, no-
ompeaie.
encumber, sarpoMasaca-
Baxb, 3aBaJiHBaxb,o6pe-
Meaaxb.
encumbrance, ofipeMeae-
aie, npenaxcxBie, npe-
noaa-
end,
Koaei;!.
Koa-
HHHa,inOCJI'feAOK'b, AtJb,
npsAMexii ; in the—,
HaKOBeu;'i>, Hanocj*-
ROKT. ; to . — , KOH-
qaxb, KOHiaxbCH, OKaa-
qHBaxbca} — less, Sea-
KOHeiHHft.
endanger, noAsepraxb
onacHocxH.
endear, A'fijiaxb uuAuin,,
npnaasbiBaxb.
endeavour, cxapaaie; to
— , cxapaxbca, noKy-
maxbCfl.
endow, o^apaxb; — ment,
AapoBaaie.
endurance, npexepniaie,
nepeaeceaie.
endure , BHffepatHBaxb,
xepnixb, noxepixb,
npexepntaaxb, nepe-
aocHXb, HcnwxbiBaxb,
ftepffiaxbca.
enemy, aenpi.Hxejib, Bpart.
energy, aaepria, CHJia,
xBepAOCTb, BwpasHxeab-
HOCXb.
engage, yroaapHBaxb, 3a-
SblBaXb, CHHCKHBaXb,3a-
BHMaxb , nycKaxbca,
Bcxynaxb, Bcxynaxb bt.
cpaffieaie, aanaAaxb na,
oSaswBaxbca; to be — d
in, 6bixb saaaxHM'b
HiM-bj to be — d in
a battle, yqacxBOBaxb,
HaxoAHXbca btj cpa/se-
aiH) — ment, oSnaa-
xejibcxBO, cpaateaie,
6HXBa.
engaging, npnajreKaxe-ib-
Bba8.
engine, wamHaa, HHCxpy-
Meaxt; — er,Haffleaep'b,
Haateaepi)- iiexaaHKij .
England, AnrJiia.
English, aarjtiftcKiS asMK'b;
aarJiiScKifi; the — , Ah-
rjiuHaae; the — Church,
aarjiHKaacKaa ^epKOBb;
— man, AarjaqaaHHT.;
— Saxon, aHrjificKO-
caKcoHCKiS.
— 36i —
engraving, rpaBHpoBaHie,
HSoSpajKeaie.
enjoin, cTporo npeflUHCM-
Baxb.
enjoy, Hacjia)KflaTbCH,nojib-
soBaTbca HtM'b, noTdfe-
uiaTbCHjHM'feTb; — ment,
Hacjiaatfleiiie, y/^OBOJIb-
CTBie.
enlarge , ysejiHMHBaTb ,
pacujHpflTb; — ment,
paciuHpenie , pacnpo-
CTpaneHie, pasBiiTie.
enlighten, npocBifeunaTb.
enlist, BepQoBaxb.
enliven, offiHBJiaxb,
enormous, orpoMHbiM,6e3-
MtpHbifi; — ly, 6e3Mtp-
HO, OrpOMHO.
enough, flOBOJbHo; kind — ,
CTOJb ftoOpwfi.
enquire, cm. inquire,
enrage , pasApaHcaTb ,
BSOtCIITb.
enrich, oSoramaxb.
ensign, KopMOBofi ijiart,
SHaKi., npHSHaK'b; —
staff ojiarrnxoKt,
enslave, nopafiomaxb.
ensue, BOcnocji'b/i.OBaxb,
CJ'fe/^OBaxb.
entablature , anxaSjie-
weHxi.. KapHHS'b cb ap-
XI'IXpaBOMTj H <[)pH30M1).
entangle , sanyxHBaxb ;
to be — d , sanyxbi-
BaXbCH.
enter, Exo^nxb. Bcxynaxb;
to — the lists, Bbicxy-
naxb Ha 60S , hoabh-
saxbca Ha nonpHm'fe
to — into engagements,
o6a3biBaxbcs ktj qejiy;
to — upon business J
npiiHHMaxbca sa ^tjio,
enterprise, npe^npinxie.
enterprising, npeAnpima-
. hhbmS.
entertain, yro^axb, nn-
Taxb, 3a6aBjiaTb} to —
compunction, nyBcxBO-
Baxb pacKaflHie; to — to
a different tone, 3a-
ntxb spyrHMTj tohomT);
— ing,3aHnMaxeJibHbiS;
— ment , yromenie ,
nupij.
enthusiasm, BHxysiasMi.,
Bocxopr'b.
enthusiastic, Bocxopffien-
hhS; — ally, cb bocxh-
meHieMi>, Ci SHxysias-
MOM'b.
entire, i^'fejibHbifi, secb —
ly, coBepuieHHO , co-
BCfeMT).
entitle, ?;aBaxb npaBO Ha
Hxo; to be — d, HMixb
npaBO Ha hxo.
entrance, Exo^Tb.
entreat, ywojiaxb, npo-
CHXb; — y, npocbGa,
ynpaiuEBaHie.
entrust, BBiipaxb.
entwine, ofiBHEaxb,
enumeration, HciHcjeHie
environs, oKpywHocxH.
envoy, hocojitj, nocjiaH-
HHKT..
envy, saBHCxb; to—, aa-
smp^OBiiib HCiuy.
epic, anHHecKifl.
episcopacy , enacKon-
CXEO.
episcopal, — ian, enac-
KoncKifij the English —
church, AnrjiHKaHCKaa
u;epKOBb.
epistle, noc.iaHie,nHCbMO.
epoch, 9noxa; of that — ,
xoro BpeMeHH.
equability, paEHocxb.
equable, paBHbiS, oaho-
oOpasHbiM.
equal, paBHsiS, oAaaaKiM;
to — , paBHSTbCH Cb
KiMt- — ly, paBHO,
paBHaMtpHO.
equip, cnapaataxb; — age,
BKHnaacb. ^
equity, c^paEe;^JIHEOCXb. ••
'ere, cm. your.
ere, ^pe3K;^e HeateJiH.
erect, BoaflBHraxb, coopy-
Htaxbj cxaBHib, yHpeat-
flaxb,0CH0BHEaxb; npa-
Mo; — ion, coopyateHie.
errand, nocHJiKa,
erroneous , ouiHGoqHwfi,
error, norptmHocxb, 0-
uiH6Ka.
erudition, yienocxb.
escape, no6'fcr'b, cnaceaie;
CM. xaKffie narrow h
fire-escape; to make
one's -^jyCtrjaxb) to — ,
cnacaxbCH , ySiraxb ,
yxo^HTb , H36*raxb ,
MHHOBaxb; he narrow-
ly — d, OH-B CT. xpy-
;^OM'B cnacca.
escort, npHKpbixie, KOHBofi.
especially, oco5eHHo.
espouse, oGpyiaxb, me-
HHXbCa Ha KOMTi; to —
any one's cause,, npa-
HHMaxb 4bio exopoHy.
espy, ycMaxpHBaxb.
esquire;U^HxoHoce^'b,opy-
ffleHOcen;^, nOMtinHKt.
essential, cymecTBea-
HbiS; — ly, cymecxBeHHO.
establish , yipeacflaxb ,
0CH0BbiBaxb,Ha3HaHaxb,
onpeff-fejiaxb, ycxaHOB-
jiaxb, yxBepsAaTb, ;;o-
Ka3biBaxb, 3aB0;i,HXb J
to be — d, yKp'finjiaxbca
(na npecxoji'fe)} — ment,
yqpeiEfteHie, 3aBe;^eHie,
nocxoHHHaa KBapxnpa.
estate HMiHie, noM'Scxte.
esteem yBaaieHiej to — ,
46
— 362 —
yBaataxb , noHBTaxt ,
estimate, oB^tHKa; to—,
OI^tHHEaXb.
estuary, jtHMaHTj.
etc (et caetera), a npo-
qee, n TaKi> ;^aJI'£e.
eternal, BiiHBiS.
Euripides, EBpHnnfli..
Europe, EBpona ; — an,
EBponeei^t, EBponeM-
CKiS.
Eva, EBBa.
evangelist, esaHreJincT'i.
eve, Beiepi), Kanyaii; on
the — of becoming ,
totobhS c;^'feJIaTbca; —
ning, Beqepij, seqep-
HiM.
even, rjiaAKiS, paBHuM;
Raate. •
event, co6biTie, nponcme-
CTBie,pa3Bfl3KU,ycn'£x'i.
pesyjibTaTt ; I waited
with horror the — , a
cb yaacouTj BbiffiH^jajii)
qtM-b pi'feJIO K0H4HTC3;
at all — S, BO BCHKOMT)
•cayia'fe; — ful, saMi-
qaxeJibHbifi no BaatHbiM-b
COOMTiHM'b.
ever, Bcer^a, Kor;;a hh-
6yftb, Kor;i,a jih6o; as —
may be, EaK-b nejibsa
Soji'fee; for — and — ,
CeanpecxaHHO, Oesnpe-
pHBKOj, BliHHo; — slnce,
CB Ttxt nop-B; — so,
CKOJIbHO 6bl HH, KaKTj
5w HHj without— think-
ing, HHCKOJibKo He no-
Ayuafl; — lasting, Bti-
Bu3.
Everard, SeeprapAi..
every, scaKifi, — body,
— one, BCHKiS) — other
minute, Kaat^Ha flBi
MHHyTbi, Hepeai) Mnny-
Ty; on — side, co Bcfex-b
CTopoH-Bj — thing, Bce;
— where, ses/i;*, no-
Bcio;!;y, noBceiifiCTHO.
evidence, cBH;^'£TeJIbCTBo,
noKasanie, ;^0Ea3aTeJIb-
CTBO.
evident, OHeBH;;Hbiii;— ly,
ogeBH3;HO.
evil, 3Jro.
ev'ry, cm every.
ewer, KpyasKa, KyBiUHH'B,
pyKOMoMHHKTj.
exact. TOHHbiS; to — ,
BSbiCKHBaxb, TpeSoBaxb;
— ion , JIHXOHMCTBO,
rpaSarejibCTBO; — ly,
TOHHO, TOHb B-b TOIb]
— ness, TOHHOCTb.
exalt, BOSBbimaTb, npe-
BosHOCHTb ; — ation,
BOSBbimeHie.
examination, pascMorpt-
nie, ;^o^poc'B.
examine, sKsaMeHOBaTb,
pascMaxpHBaTb, ncnw-
xbiBaxb; — r, 9K3aMe-
Haxopt, Hcnbixaxejib,
example, npHMipt, o6pa-
. 3ei],t.
exasperate, pa3/i;pa5Kaxb.
exceed , npcBocxoAHXb ,
npecxynaxb ^ cpeBH-
^ maxb ; — ingly, qpes-
MtpHO, KpaMne.
excell, npeBocxo;iHxb,OT-
jiHiaTbca; — ence, npe-
BOCXO;^CXBO, ROCXOHH-
cxBo; — ent, npeBOC-
xorhhS, oxjihhhhS.
except, — ing, HCKJiiOHaH,
KpoM*, ecjiH He; —ion,
HCKJIOHCHie.
excess, ipesMtpHocxb ,
He6O3Aep3KH0cxb; — ive,
qpesMtpHbiH; — ively,
Hpe3MtpH0.
exchange, o6M'bHi>, pas-
MtHij, GHpjsa; to — ,
OfiMtHHEaXbCa HtMTi;
to — for, npoM*Haxb,
Ha, 3aM'£Haxb HiMt.
excite, B036ya:Aaxb; —
ment, BHyxpeHsee boji-
Henie, BcxpeBOKHBaHie,
pasflpaateme.
exclaim, BocKJiai^axb.
exclamation, BocEjiHAa-
nie; to make an — ,
BOCKJIHI^aXb.
exclude, BWKjiio'iaxb, hc-
KJioiaxb.
exclusion, BbiKjnoieHie,
HCK.)iiOHeHiej — bill, cm.
bill; — ist, npHBepffie-
Hei^'b BbiKJiioqKH Fep-
nora lopKCKaro (KaKii
KaxoJHKa) 0X1. npecxo-
JiOHacjiiAiJi-
exclusive, ncKjrioiHxejib-
HbiB; — ly, HCKJiioiH-
XeJIbHO.
excommunicate, oxjiyiaxb
oxt i;epKBH.
excommunication, oxjiy-
"leHie oxi> i^epKBH;
bill of — •, GyjiJia h3-
peKaiomaa npoKJiaxie.
excuse, H3BHHeHie5^pe/^-
jiori>; to make — s, h3-
BHHaxbca , npHBORHXb
Bt onpaB;i;aHie; to — ,
H3BHHaXb.
execute, acnojiHaxb, 00-
Bepuiaxb, Ka3HHXb.
execution, ucnojiHeaie,
coBepmeHie,Ka3Hb, bsbi-
CEaHie fl;ojiroB'b; to is-
sue — , ^pe;^^Hcaxb
npHBCCxH BTi fttdcxBie;
H'b.
flyujenpHKa-
-er, uajiaH'b.
executor ,
U^HET..
exercise , ynpaatHeaie ,
ypoKt, xtJ:o;^BHffleHie,
npHBe;;eHie b* fttS-
— 363
CTBO, HcnojiHeilic, hc-
npaBJCHie; a holy — ,
CBHToe A*Jio; to — ,
ynpajKHSTbCH, 6biTb na
yieHiH, yiiOTpe6jiaTb,
. nojibsoBaTbCH ; to — a
power, HMtTb CHJibHoe
BJiianie; to — dominion,
B.iaftbI4eCTB0BaTbJ to —
oppression , npHTlfec-
HflTb, yrneraTb; to —
outrage, yMHHHTb na-
CHJiie; to — pasture,
BHroHHTb B-b nojie , na-
CTH (CKOT-b).
exert, Hanparaxb, yno-
TpeSjiflTb; to — courage
BbiKaabiBaxb xpaSpocxb;
to
one's self, ch-
— ion, ycHJie, nanpa-
ffienie.
exhaust, Hcrou^axb.
exhibit, noKasMBaxb, Bbi-
KaswBaxb, BbicxaBJiHXb,
npe;^cxaBjiHXb; — ion,
BHCxaBJieHiCj npe/i,cxa-
BJieaie.
exhort, yBtmeBaxb, —
ation,yB'femeBaHie, 060-
Apenie,
exigence, HaRo6Hocxb,Hyffl ■
ffajCJiyiaS HysK/i;u,Kpafi-
Hee cocxoflnie.
exile, HsroHflXb, ccwjiaxb.
exist , cymecxBOBaxb ,
6bixb; — ence, cyme-
CTBOBaHie; in — ence,
cymecxByiomiS.
expanse, npoxa3KeHie,npo-
CXpaHCXBO.
expansion, pacxHiKeHie,
pacuinpcHie.
expatiate, pacnpocxpa-
HflxbCH 0 qejiTj.
expect, 05KH;^axb.HaRtflTb-
ch; or 1 shall — you
to make it over again,
nHaie BaMi. npH/i,eTCfl
nepenHcaxb Bce CHOsaj
— ation, ojKHsaHie
expediency, nojesHocxb,
yAofinocxb.
expedient^ opeflcxBo; npa-
jihhhhM, y/i,o6Hbi8, no-
jiesHbii.
expedite, oxnpaBJiaxb(B'i.
SKcneAHijiio).
expedition, BOenHoe npe^-
npiaxie, 3Kcne/i,HU(iH,
oxnpaBjieHie.
expeditiously, nocntuino,
expel, BHFOHaXb, Hsro-
Haxb.
expend , HSAepjHHBaxb ,
HCxpaiHBaxb.
expense, HS^epfflKa, pac-
xoA^; at the' — of, na
CHext Koro.
experience, onbixHocxb,
onbiX'B , HCDbixaHie ;
to — , HcnbixbiBaxb;
— d, onbixHbifi.
experiment, onbixt.
expiate , sarjiaatHBaxb.
expiration , HcxeneHie
(cpoKa).
expire, ynnpaxb, CKOH-
Haxbca, KOHHaxbca, mh-
HOBaxb.
explain, ofitacHaTb.
explanation, 06'bacHeHie.
explode, BspwBaxbca.
exploit, noABHn,.
explore , HscjitROBaxb,
pasBi&AWBaxb.
explosive BspbiBaiomifica.
export, BblBOB'b, BblBOS-
HbiS xOBapT>; to — , bh-
BOSHXh, oxnycKaxb 3a
rpaHHD;y.
expose, nOABepraxb, bh-
cxaBjiaxb.
exposure, BbicxaBjreHie,
noABepHtenie.
expound, HSjaraxb, iJ3T>-
acnaxb.
express, HapoHHMfi, hmch-
Hovi; to — , Bbipaataxb,
H3T:aB,iaxb) -^ion, bm-
pajKCHie.
exquisite, oxMtHiibTg,
extant , cymecxByion^iS
EX. HajiHqHocxH; is — ,
Hwhexca.
extemporal, hc npnro-
XOBJeHHblft,
extempore, Sest npnro-
xoBJCHia.
extend, pacTarHBaxb,pac-
njHpiixb, pacnpocxpa-
Haxb, pacmnpaxbCH,
pacnpocxpaHaxbca,npo-
CXHpaXbCH.
extensive, npocxpannbiS,
o6umpHbifi.
extent, npoxaateHie, oSt-
emx., cxencHb.
extenuation, cMarieHie.
exterior, HapyasHbifijBHtui-
Hift.
exterminate, Hcxpe6jiflxi>,
HCKopenaib.
external, BHtniHiS, ha-
pyatHbiH.
extinct, noracoiift, bh-
Mepjibifi.
extinguish , noxymaxb ,
noraniaxb, npectEaxb.
extirpate , HCKopsHaxb,
HcxpeSjiaxb.
extol, npeBOSHOCHXi, bm-
xBaJiaxb.
extort, BbiHyatAaTbjHCTOp-
raxb.
extract, HSBJieneHie, bh-
nacKa; to — , BbixacKH-
Baxb, BbinnMaxb.
extraordinary, qpesBbi-
HafiHbiS, HeofiblKHOBeH-
Hbl8.
extravagance, pacxoiH-
xejbHocxb.
364
extravagant. pacTO>iH-
TejIBHblft, MOTOBCKOS.
extreme,' KpaiiHifi; — ly,
HpesBbiiafiHO, KpafiHe,
B-B BHciueS CTeneHH.
extremity, Kpafi, KOHenT>,
rpaH0i;a, KpaSaie npe-
AtJiw, KpafinocTb, KpaS-
Hflfl Hyffi/ia.
extricate, BbinyTbiBaTb,
ocBo6oH{;^aTb.
exultation, BocTopnb.
eye, rs.&S'b, oko, Bsop'b;
the — of the govern-
ment is lipon them,
rjiast npaBHTSJibCTBa
ycTpeMJiCHt Ha rhxtj;
— brow, 6poBb.
F.
Fabius, $a6ifi.
fable, 6acHfl, BbiMbicejn.,
6acH0CJ[0Bie.
fabricate, BbiMbimjiaTb.
fabulous, 6acHocjioBHbifi.
face, JiHi;e, noBepxHOCTb,
HajHiaaa CTopoHa; — to
— JtHi^eM'b Ki. JiHity; to
know any one's — ,
SHaxb Koro cb jini^a;
to — about, ofiopain-
aaTbca jHmeaii).
facetious, myxJiHBHM.
facilitate , o6jier<jaTb ,
cnoco6cTBOBaTb.
facility, jierKocTb, o6jier-
MHTCJIbHOe c.pe;^CTB0,
noco6ie.
fact, HCTHHHoe npoHcme-
CTBie, <t>&KTh; in — , bi
CaMOMTj ;^'fiJI'fe.
faction, napriH.
factious, MflTBJKHblS.
factory, «aKTOpia, waHy-
«aKTypa, MacTepcKaa;
— child peSeHOK-b npa-
Raj[jieiR3iU\\a *aKTopin.
fade away, yBafljaTb.
fagot ,faggOt,nyK'b npyTb-
eBt, CBasKa xBopocxy.
fail, He ;^oxoJI,HTb, He ;i;o-
CTasaTb, He ;i;ocTHraTb
UtJiH, He ycniBaTb, ne
cooTBtTCTBOBaxB, npc-
MHHOBaTb, cjraSliTb ,
ocjaSlfeBaTb , nycTlsTb ;
could not — of, He
Mor-b He; till loop and
button — ing both,
noKa He pascxerHyjiacb
nyroBHr(a; — ing, qo-
rptmnocTb, ejiaSocTb;
— ure, neycntxTj, ne-
yAana.
fain, OXOTHO, CB OXOTOIO.
faint, HCTomeHHBiS, cja-
6blfl; to — , TOMHTBCH,
yiia^aTB btj oCnopoicB;
— ly, cjiaSo.
fair, apMapKa; npeKpac-
HbiM, HCHbifl, c^paBe;^-
JIHBblft
the secret
was in a — way of
dying along with him,
HafleHC/^a OTKpblTB Tafi-
Hy, CO CMepxiio ero,
Kasajiocb, HcnesJia Ha
Bcer;^a; — and softly,
John, jieroHbKO, BaHb-
Ka, THxoHBKo! — ly,
cnpaBe/i.THBO, BbiroRHO,
SjiaronpiflxHO, coBep-
rueHHo,
faith, Bipa, BlfepHOCXB,
lecxHOCxB; — fiiljEtp-
Hbifi; — fully, BlfepHo;
— less, HeBlipyiomifi.
fall, naaenie, BOAOna^'B;
to
na^axh, yna^axB,
onycKaxLcn, cxHxnxb,
nonaftaxbcn ; to — a-
sleep, sacHyxB; to —
back, noAaBaxBCfl na-
saftT), OTcxynaxb; to —
behind, oxcxynaxB, y^a-
jiaxbca ; to — calm,
cxHxaxb; to — down,
na^axb, yna^axb, na-
^axb Ha KOJitHH; to —
from, onycKaxB, xe-
paxb, to — in into a
row, cxaHOBnTbca bt.
"pnp^i; to — into any
one's way, sacxynHXb
KOMy ftopory; to— into
decay, to — into ruin,
npHxoAHXBBTi ynaftOK-B;
to — into a quarrel,
HaHHHaxb cnopnxb;to —
in with, BcxptnaxbCJi,
corjiamaxBCH cb; to —
off, oxna;iaxBj to — on,
BbiAyMbiBaTb; to — out,
BbinaflaxB, BbiBaaHBaxb-
ca; to — short, He^o-
cxHraxB ; to — to, to
— to any one's share,
AOcxaBaxbCH KOMy j to
— upon, Hana^axb Ha.
fallen, cm, fall.
fallow- deer ,KpacHbie sBt-
pH, oaeHb.
felse, jioffiHbifi, HeBtp-
HbiS , HenpaBHJibHbifi,
B'fepojioiiHbiii, *ajibmH-
BblM, nOAfftJIBHHlfi, Ha-
KJiaii;Hoft (o BO-iocaxTj).
fame, cjiasa; to be — d
for, ciaBHXbca H'feM'B.
familiar, sHaKOMbiS} to
make one's self— ,03Ha-
KOMJinBaTbCH.
family, ceiieMcxBO a>a-
MHJiia; ceireSHbiS, po-
AOBoM; a man of — ,
CeMaHHHTE..
famine, tojioa-b
famous , 3HaMeHHXMa,
CJiaBHUft.
fan, onaxHBaxb.
365 —
fanatic. ^anaTHKij.
fanciful, we^TarejibHbifi
(tanTacTiiqecKiM.
fancy, BoofipajKeaie, laei
xa; pacnojioiKeHie, npa
crpacxie) to — , boo6
pajKaTb, Me^xaTb.
far, ffajteKiS; RaJieKO, ro
pa33,o, oicHb, MHOro
— ^nd wide, noBciOAy
— away, B;;ajiH; as — as
CKOJIbEO; how — ^CKOJIb
KOj so —as, 3;o; thus
— , ffo cero Mtcxa.
fare, nnma, nponaxaHie,
KyuiaHbc, yromehie,
nJiaxa sa npoBOSTb; —
well, npou^aaie, npo-
mafixe !
farm, xyxopt, sepiiaj to
— , 6paxb Ha oxKynrb,
o6pa5oTbiBaxb; — er,
apeH;^axop'B ) — yard,,
•xyxopHbiM ;;Bop'b.
farrier, KysHei^T..
farther, sajite, cBepx-b
xoro.
farthing, QapAHHr-b (I'/a
fl,eHe3KKH).
fashion, o6biKHOBeHie,Mo-
fla; to be in the — ,
c.i'fe;;0BaxbM0/i,'fe; — able,
MOflHblii.
fast, Kp'fenKiS, CKopbifi,
niHOKiii; CKopo, iiih6ko,
Kpibnito; to — , nocxHxb-
ch; to Eoake — , to —
en, SBKp'fenjiaxbj npa-
Kp'fenjiaxb; — ing, nocx-
HHiaHbe; — ness, Kpt-
nocxb , yKptHJiCHHoe
Mtcxo.
fastidious, 6pe3rjinBHu,
pa36op"inBbiii.
fat, atHp""!!; JKHpHblH,
fatal, 3JionojiyiHbiii, na-
ry6HBi8.
fate, cyftbSa, yqacxb.
father, oxeA-b-, — ly, ox-
ii,0BCKifl, oxe^ecidil.
fathom, ca)KeHb; in five
— s of water, Ha rjy-
6HH'fe naxH cafflCHb; to
— , HSMtpHBaxb rjy-
6HHy, BblBtAtlBaxb, HC-
nbixbiBaxb, ^poHH^axb.
fatigue, yxoMJieHie, ycxa-
Jiocxb; to — , yxoMJflXb.
fault, norplJuiHOcxb, ouihS-
Ka, BHHa.
favour, MiMocxb, o\os.-
ffienie \ in the — of,
B1. HbK) nojibsy; to — ,
OAOJiffiaxb,y;i;ocxonBaxb,
nOKpOBHXeJTbCXBOBaXb,
SjaronpiaxcxBOBaxb; —
able, 6.iarocKJiOHHbifi,
BBiro^HbiH , y/i;o6Hbiii;
— ite, Jiio6E[Mei],'B, jiio-
CHMblM.
fear, fioasHb, onaceHle;
to be in — , fioaxtca,
onacaxbca ; dying — ,
CMepxeJibHbiii cxpaxt;
for — , 6oflCb, fla6bi aej
to — , Soflxbca, cxpa-
mnxbca leio; — ful,
6ofl3JHBuM] they were
— ful that, OHH ona-
cajiHCb Hxofibi; — fully,
cxpaniHo; — less, 6e3-
6oa3HeHHbiii, ne fioacb;
lessness, 6eb6oa3HeH-
HOCXb.
feast, HHp-B.
feat, noABHr-b, B'fejro; —
of arms, repoScKift no/i;-
Enr-b.
feather, nepo; to — , no-
KpHBaxb nepbSMH, ne-
pHXbcaj — bed, nepHna.
feature, lepxa.
February, ^eBpajib.
fed, CM. feed.
fee, njiaxa.
feeble, cjiaSbiM, Hemon^Hbifi
feed, KOpMHXb, HHXaXb,
KopiiHTbca, nnxaxbcfl;
at —ing time, bo Bpe-
MH KOpMJieHiH.
feel, HyBCXBOBaxb; to —
assured, 6bixb ysifepeH-
hmmtj B-b qcM-b; — ing,
•jyBcxBO, oca3aHie,iyB-
cxBOBaHie.
feet, CM. foot,
feign, npHXBopaxbca,
felicity, cqacxie.
fell, KaMeHHbiii xoJiMi>;
CM. xaKffie fall.
fellow, xoBapan^ij, coxo-
BapHa<'b J HejioBtKij,
napeub; — citizen, co-
rpaatflaHHHi. J — pass-
enger, t/iymiM BM'fecx*
Cb KtM-b, COnyXHHK'b}
— ship , . xoBapH^:^e-
cxBO, 6paxcxB0 ; —
traveller, conyxHHK'B.
felon, npecxynHHKTi.
felt, CM feel.
female, ffleHmHHa 5 atea-
CKifi.
fen, 6ojroxo.
fencing, sexxoBaaie.
ferocious, jik)xm8.
ferocity, jiioxocxb, cbh-
ptnocxb"
ferry, nepeaos-b, nepe-
npaaa (qpes-b p^Ky).
fertile , ojoAOHocHbiM ,
njiOROBHxbiH; — in corn,
xfl'fe6opo;!;Hbift.
fertility, ojioffOBHxocxb.
festive, xopatecxBenabiS.
fetch, nosaaxb, npHBecxH,
XOflHXb 3a, npHHOCHXb;
let him be — ed, cxo-
RHxe 3a HHMT,; to —
over, nepeaosHxb, npa-
Bosnxb.
fever,. ropaqKa.
few, aeMBorie*, HCMHoro,
— 366 —
Majio; a — , HtKOTO-
pwe, HtCKOJIbKO.
fibre, BOJioKHo.
fickle , HenOCTOflHHHfi ,
nepeM'feHqHBbifi.
fidelity, BtpHocxb.
field, noje; noJieBoS; —
sports, 3a6aBbi Ha ot-
KpWTOMT. nojlfe.
fiend, sjoS syxt.
fierce, CEHptntiS, jhotbiI!;
— ness , CBPip'fenocTb ,
JIIOTOCTb.
fiery, ropniifi, nbiJiKifl.
fifer, S'JiefiinnK'b.
fifteen, naTHaAn;aTb; —
hundred, TbicHia naxb-
COTTj.
fifth, naxbifi; four — s,
qexbije nflTHxt; — ly,
B-b nflTblXT..
fifty, nflTb/5ecaTb.
fig, BHHHaa Rroj[,a.
fight, cpafflCHie; the — is
fought, cpaffienie p;aHo;
to — , cpaffiaTbCH,spaTb-
Cfl; to — a battle, Raxb
cpaffienie; to — it out,
ptmaxb ntjo (opyati-
eM-b, ejHHOSopCTBOMT.
H np.) ; to — one's
— way, npo6HBaTbCH; j
— ing, 6oM, 6opb5a, '
cpaateHle.
figure, BHATjiiHrypacTaHrb
fill, HanoJiHflTb, Hcnojr-
HHTb, nOnOJHHTb, KOM-
njreKTOBaxb, HajHBaxb-
ca; to — up, fl;onoJi-
HHXb, ROJHBaXb, SaHH-
MaXb (MtCTO).
finally, HaKOHei;^, nano-
cji'J6;50K'b.
finances, tnHaHcw.
find, HaxoffHTb; to — for
any one, oxbicKiiBaTb
KOMyj to — one's self,
HaXOAHTbCH, lyBCXBO-
Baxb ce6a ; to — out,
OXHCKHBaXb , . OTKpbl-
Baxb, ysHaBaxb,
fine, npeKpacHbiS, Kpa-
cnBuS, nsnmHbiS, xoh-
Ki&, xopomiH; remark-
ably — , npeoxjiHHHMS,
cjiaBHBifi; to — , nixpa-
iOBaxbj — ly, npeKpac-
HO, HsainHO; -ry, y-
SpaHcxBO, Hapfl/i;!!.
finger, najiei;^.
finish, OKaHHiiBaxbjRonaH-
HHBaxb , 0X;^13JIbIBaXb.
fire , OrOHb , KaMHHHblfi
oroHb , noHtap-b 5 no-
HtapKbifi; on — , B-b or-
Hi, ^opflu:^ii^ ; to take
— , saropaxbca, saffiH-
raxbca
BCnblXHBaXb
we had a — , mh xona-
jiR ; we have begun —
s, MU Eaqajm xonaxb;
to — , cxptjaxb, na-
jHxb, saataraxb, saatn-
raxbcajto— for distress,
;^'feJIaxb cnrHajibHBieBbi-
cxptJibi fljia osHaneHia
onacHOCTH ; to — up,
BOcnjiaiieHaxBca ; we
— d two shot, MU cft*-
jiaJiH ;^Ba Bbicxptjia;
— arms , ornecxpiab-
Hoe opyatie ; —damp,
pyAHHHHwS ras-b; —es-
cape, noaiapHaa cna-
CHxejibHaa MauiHHa; —
escape dog , co5aKa
npH noHtapHofi cnaca-
xejbHoS MauiKHt; — fly,
CBtxjiaK'b ; — place ,
oiar-bj —ship, 6paH-
^^cp-b; — side, EaMHHi..
firm, xBepAwii, KptuKiil,
HenoKOJiefinMbiil; — ly,
xBep^OjKptnKO; — ness,
xBepjocxb , HenoKOJie-
CnMOCXb.
first, nepBbiS; cnepsa,
BO nepEMx-b, BT. nep-
Bbiii pasi), BnepBbie,
npeiKAe, nanepe^'b; at
— ,. cnepsa; from the
— , Cb caMaro naiajia;
— rate , nepBOcxeneH-
Hbifi, uepBOKJiaccHbiS.
fish, pbi6a; — erman,pH-
SaKtjpbiCojiOB'b; —ing,
pufiflaa jioBja ; — ing
boat, pbi6ai(Kaa jiORKa.
fissure, pascfejiHHa, mejTb.
fit, roAHbiH, cnoco6HbiS
ktj qeuy , yAoGnHfi,
opnjiH4HbiS;to think — ,
c^Hxaxb HyaiHbiM'b; to
— jiltjiaxb cnocofiBbiMt,
6bixb btj nopy j to —
out, Boopyffiaxb, ocHa-
mnsaxb.
five, naxb.
fix, npuKp'fenjiaxb, onpe-
^tjaxb, HasHaiaxb, 06-
pamaxb, ycxpeMJiaib)
to — one's choice, bh6h-
paxb; he — ed him to
the spot, OH-b He cny-
cxEji-b ero c^ Micxaj
he — ed his eyes eagerly
upon it, OH-b Cb majs,-
Hocxiio ycxpeHHJi-b cboh
rjiasa na Hea.
flag , tJiar-b ; — ship ,
*jiarMaHCKiS KOpaSjb.
flail, n.tnt.
flame, njiaMajOroKbjnbiJrB.
Flanders, OjianApia.
flank, SoKT), ^JiaHrrb; to
— , npnKpwBaxb cb
6oKy.
flap, y^apaxb, 60Tb, xjio-
naxb.
flash, 6jrecKi>; to — , 6sa-
cxaxb, CBepnaxb.
fiat, njiocKaa cxopona kjhh-
Ka; njocKift; — bottom-
ed, njrocKOAOHHwfi.
1
flatter, JibcxHTb, JiacKaTL;
— er, jrBCTei;^; — y,
aecTb, JtacKaxejibCTBO.
flaw, nopuBTi Btxpa.
flax, Jiearb.
flay, c/inpaxb KOffiy.
fled, CM. flee.
flee, SlHtaTb, y6lraTb,
y6'feH!aTB.
fleet, «JOTi.; »jiOTCKifi;
— of ships, KopaSejb-
Hwfi 4JI0T'b.
flesh, Mflco, njiOTb.
flew, CM. fly.
flicker, nopxaxb.
flight, noJieT'b,6'fer'i>, fitr-
CTBO, Teqenie; to take
to — , CM. take.
fling, — down, SpocaTb,
luBbipfiTb; to — open,
HaCHJIbHO pacTBopaTb,
flint, KpeMSHb.
float, 6yfi, nonjaBOKTb;
to — , njiaBaxb, HOCHXb-
ch; to — off, ynjiH-
Baxb.
flock , cxa^o ; a — of
sheep, cxa/i;o OBen-b,
OBeibe cxa^io; to — ,
T0JinHXbCH,C06HpaXbCH,
cTeKaxbCfl.
flood, noxoK'b, HSJiiHHie,
HaBOAHeaie, npHj[0B'b_,
ptKa, cxpya.
floor, noji'b,apycT., axaffirb.
florin, sJiopHHTjiFyjib^iieHi).
flounder , Oapaxxaxbea ,
GaxbCfl.
flour, MyKa.
flourish , npoi^Btxaxb ,
ycniBaibj — ing, i;b'6-
xyn^ifi.
flow, xeHbj to — behind,
(o napHK*) pasjrexaxb-
ch; to — through, npo-
TCKaib ; — ing, BSBi-
gaioa^igca.
— 367 —
flower, I^BtX-B, I^B-feXOKl.,
MyKa ; — of wheat ,
niueHHiHaH MyKa.
fluency, CBo6o;i;HOcxb,6'br-
aocxb.
flung, CM. fling.
flurry, CMymenie.
flush, CxpeMHXbCH.
fly, Myxa; to — , jiexaxb,
Sifflaxb , 6pocaxbca ,
pacnycKaxbCH ; to —
away, yjiexaxb; to —
into the arms, 6po-
CHXbCH Bt oStaxiajto —
off, oxaexaxb, cjiexaxb;
to — open , pacxBO-
pflxbCH,pacnaxHBaxbCfl;
to — up, BSJtexaxb.
foam, ntHa; to — , n'fi-
HHXbCa,
foe, Bparij, Henpiaxejib.
fog, xyMaHT,; — gy, xy -
MaHBUU.
fold, cxa/^o; to — , saro-
Hflxb Bi> saropo^Ky
(oBen;^).
folk, jiio3;h, HapoAT..
follow, cjitflOBaxb , no-
cj[16/i;0Baxb, h^xh sa;
to — in anyone'ssteps,
HflXH no HbaMT. CJ['£-
flaM-bjto — anyone's way,
txaxb /i;ajibiiie no xom
ace Ropor*; — er, npo-
BOHtaxbifi , nocjitflOBa-
xejib.
folly, rjiynocxb, Sespaa-
cy/^HOcxb.
fond, HtfflHbifi ; I am —
of, a oxOTHHRx. 3,0; to
— le, JiacKaxb; — ly,
HtHtHO, SeayMHO.
food, niiii^a.
fool, AypaK-b, myx-b) to
— , Aypa^nxb ; — ish,
Aypan;Ki&, rjiyubift.
foot, Hora, tyx-b; on — ,
D'buiROMii ; at a —'9
pace^ maroMT.; — naan,
JiaKeM; running — man,
JiaKeii A^a nocbiJOK-b,
pascbiJibHbiS J — path,
ntuiexoAHaa Aopora; —
runner, etrynt; —
soldier, ^'bxoxHHe^'I>;
— step, cxona, cjttAt.
fop, merojib, oipaHXTj.
for, 3a, A-ns, paAH, no,
Kt, Ha, BT. npoAOJffle-.
Hie, ox-bj h6o, noxoMy
1X0 ; — myself, hto
Kacaexca ao Mena ca-
Maro ; man — man ,
oahhtj npoxHBXi OAaoro;
now — it, Hy He po-
Sifi! — the third time,
BTb xpexiM pas-B.
forbid, sanpemaxb ; God
— , coxpaHH BorTi!
force, CHJia, BoficKo; —of
numbers , iHCjteHHoe
npcBOCxoAcxBo; to — ,
npHHyatAaxb, 6paxb ch-
JiOH), *opcHpoBaxb; to
— forward, nonyKaxb,
noroaaxb snepeATj; to
~ one's way, npoGa-
Baxbca; to — out, bh-
xicHaxb, BwroHaxb; to
— up and down, loji-
Kaxb xo BBepxt xo
bhhs'b; to — upon, na-
BaSHBaxb KOMy; — cing
itself from below, npo-
pbiBaacb CHHsy.
forcible, Hac0.iibcxBeHHbig,
noHyAHXcjiBHufi.
forcibly, cnjibHO, nacajib-
CXBeHHO.
ford, Spofli,.
'fore, CM, Ijefore.
fore, nepeAHifi) to— bode
npeARtmaxb ; — by ,
B03Ji*j noAJitj — going,
npeA'bHAymifi; — head,
nod'b) — mast, «ok1)=
368.
MaqTa; — most, ne-
pe/^Hi8 , ^epe;^oBofi ,
aepBBifi, nepB'feSuiiS}
— tell, npeftCKasbiBaTb;
— top, iopt-Mapcb.
foreign, sarpaHHiH&in,
HHOCTpaHHwii, lyHofi;
a — land, HyatoM Kpaii ;
— travel, nyTemecxBie
3a rpaHHi^y; — er, hho-
cxpaHci^'B.
foresail, cokt,; down — ,
CTaBb tOKT)} up — j^OKl)
Ha THTOBbl!
foresaw, cm. foresee,
foresee, npesBn^tTb.
forest , Jtci ; JitcHofi 5
— er, JltCHHKTj, .itCHH-
lifi, JtCHOfl IKHTeJII..
forfeit, KOH*HCKOBaHHb]fi;
to — , ■KOH*HCKOBaTb.
forge, KOBajIbHfl, KySHH-
D;a; to — , KoeaTb.
forget, saSbiBaTb; — ful,
SaSWBHHBbin.
forgive, npon^aTb, oxny-
CKaxb; — ness, upo-
menie, OTuymcHie.
forgot , forgotten , cm.
forget.
fork, BHJIKa, paSBHJIHHa,
forlorn, oTHaKHSbifi
form, 40pMa, BHS'bjCTaHt,
CTaxb, CKaMeuKa; to — ,
o6pa30Baxb, cocxasjiHXb,
«>opMnpoBaxb, cxpoHXb;
to — a design, to — a
resolution, npHHHMaxb
HJIH BOS'bHM'feXb HaMt-
psHie ; to — a habit, y-
CBOHBaxb npHBbiqKy ;
well — ed, cxpoiiHbiu;
— al, *opMajihHbiu.
former, nepBuii, npe/K-
Hiii; — ly, ^peiK;^e, Ht-
Kor3;a
formidable , rposHwfi ,
cxpaiuHbiii.
fort,*opx'b,yKp'finjieHHoe
M'fecxo.yKp'fenjieHie, sa-
MOKrb ; — ification, y-
KpinjieHie.
forth, bohtj, npoHbjBne-
pe^T.; to send — , cm.
send} — with, xox-
HacTj, HeM'eflJieHHO.
fortify, yitptnjaxb.
fortitude, cnjia nymn,
xBep;i;ocxb.
fortnight, ffB-b Hes'fejiH.
fortress, Kp'^nocxb.
fortunate , ciacxjinBbiH,
yAaHHHH} — ly, etj
ciacxiio.
fortune, c^acxie, *opxy-
Ha, cyftbSa, HMtHie,
cocxoiiHie; desperate — ,
oxqaHHHoe nojioffieniej
a gentleman of — , ne-
jiOBtitrb CB cocxoaHieMt
forty, copoKT,.
forward, xinecjiaBHHfl; -
or — s, BnepeftTb.
fought, CM. fight.
foul, CKBepHbiFi, iHycHwii.
found, CM. find; to — ,
ocHOBHBaxb) — ation,
ocHOBaHie ; — ation
fund, ocHOBHHu Kann-
xajiTj; — er, ocHOBa-
xejib, yipeRHxejib; to
— er, noxoHyxbj noii-
XH Ha ftHO.
fount, fountain, KJiioqi.,
*0HXaHl:, HCXOIHHKIj.
four, nexbipe} — score,
BOceMbji,ecaxb; — teen,
HexbipHaftn;axb; — teenth,
4exbipHaflLi,axb]ii; — th,
qexBepTwS; — thly, b-b
lexBepxbixT..
fowl, nxHi^a.
fox, jncima.
fragment, oxjiomokii, o6-
JIOUOK'b.
frail, 6peHHBi8, cja6biS.
frame , xifeaocjioHteHie ,
cxaH-Bj to — , cocxaB-
jiaxb, ycxpaHBaxb.
France, $paH^ifl.
Francis, <I>paHaHCK'B,
frank, oxKpoBeHHtifij — ly,
OXKpOBeHHO, OXOXHO.
frantic, StmeHtifi, hchc-
lOBblfi.
fraud, oSMaHT..
free, cBoSo/^Hufi; to — ,
ocBo6o5K;i;axb , H36aB-
jiaxb oxt lero; — hoot
er, pasBoMHHK'b ; —
dom, CBo6o/i;a; — hold
estate, 6'S.ioe noMtcxbC)
— ly, CB060/],H0, BOJIb-
HO, ffoSpOBOJLbHO, OX-
EpoBeHHo; ~ masonry,
MacoHcxBO, MacoHCKoe
oOmecxBO,
freeze, Mepsayxb, saMep-
3axb.
freight, rpyst, KJiaftb.
French, 3>paHii,y3CKifi a-
SbiKij 5 $paHi:(y3CKiH ;
to speak — , roBopnxb
no opaHi];y3CKn; — man.
OpaHu.ystJthe — ,$paH-
^y3u.
frequent, lacxwii, mho-
roKpaxHbili; to
la
cxo noctn;axb; — ly,
Hacxo.
fresh, cBtatift, HOBbifi; —
from college, npflMO hstj
yHHBepcHxexa; — ly,
CBlajo; are — ly re-
membered, BT. CBtateil
naMaxa; — man, hobh-
ICKt.
friar, MOHax-bj — or
begging — , Humea-
cxByiomifi MOHaxTb.
friend, ApyrB, opiaxejib,
noApyra; — ly, Apy^ecx-
m
BeHHBiS, Roporofi ; —
ship, flpyffiGa.
frigate, a-pcraTT,.
fright,— en, nyraxb, ncny-
raxb; they were half —
ened out of their wits,
OHH no4TH c-b ysja cxo-
ffHjiH OT-b Hcnyra; —
ful, CTpaiiiHWH^ yjKac-
Hufi; —fully, cxpauiHO,
yffiacHO.
frisk, ptSBHTbCH, no-
npHFHBaTb.
Frith of Forth, $opTCFifi
Sa^QB'b.
fritter, KpOIIIHTb, HCKpO-
niHBaxb.
frivolous, cyeTHbifl, Jier-
EOMHCJreHHblS.
frock, Ka^xaHTj, apMHK-b.
frog, JiaryuiKa,
frolic, frolick, npoitafa,
niyxKa; to — , majiHTb,
piSBHTbca.
from, OTT. hstj, Vh^ no,
cyRH no
frODt, O'acaA'ij, nepeftt,
^epe;^HflH CTopoHaj jh-
^e, ftpoHT-b; in — cne-
peffH; in — of, nepe^'b)
in his—, nepcAt «poH-
TOM-B.
frost, Moposi.; — y, Mopos-
HWS, XOJIOAHblll.
froth, nifeHHTbCfl.
frown, HaxMypnBaxbCfl,
iiOKasHBaxb cepsnxbifi
BURT).
frozen, cm. freeze.
the Frozen Ocean, JleAO-
BHxoe Mope.
frugal, 6epejKJiHBbii1.
fruit, njOAT.,njroAbi, *pyK-
xh; — basket, KapsH-
na cb opyKxaMH, Kop-
SHHa ffJiH njioftOB^; —
ful, njioflOBHXbifi, njio-
ROpOftHWS, njIOROHOC-
— 369 —
HWH} — less, 6e3noJie3-
HwS, xmeTHbifi.
frustrate, paspymaxb, At-
jiaxb xmexHbiwb.
fry, HtapHXb Ha pauinplJ.
fuel, xoDJinBO, ApoBa na
XOHKy.
fulfil, ncnoJiHflXb, BbinoJi-
HflTb.
full, noJiHbiii, HanojiHen-
Hbifi , coBepmeHHbiS ,
BCfejIblfi; COBCfeMTj, Bnoji-
Ht, coBepnienHO, secb-
Ma; — an hour, n.'fijibiH
qacTb; — of popularity,
H3i1iioii;ifi 6oJibmyio no-
nyjinpHOCxb; — length,
BO Becb pocxT., — y,
BUOJIHt.
fumhle, oinynwBaxb.
fun, 3a6aBa, luyxKa.
function, oxnpaBJieHie.
fund, KaniixaJi'B.
funeral, noxopoHH, no-
rpeOenie; noxopoHHwS,
norpeSaJibHbifi.
fur, MtX-B.
furious, CBHp'feni»iu,apocx-
Hbifi; — ly, CBBptno.
furnish, A0cxaBJiaxb,CHa6-
jKaxb, MeSjinpopaxb.
furniture, Me6ejib.
further, Aa-'^H'hHmiKj a^-
Jifie, Gojite, cBcpxTj
xoro.
fury, CBnptnocTb, apocxb.
fusee, xpySKa (6oM6oBafl
HJiH rpaHaxHaa),pyjKbe.
future, SyAymee BpeMa;
6yAyn;ig; in-, BnpeAb,
BuepeAt.
G.
gaff, ra*ejib.
gain,,BbiHrpbiBaxb, Ao6bi-
Baxbj npioSptxaxb, ao-
cxnraxb oAepffiHaaxB
(noS'ftpy)) to — admis-
sion, 6bixb Bnymea-
HbiMTj} to — possession,
OBJiaAitiXb HtM-b) my
watch — s, MOH Hachi
yxoAHx-b.
gait, noxoAKa.
gale, a — of wind, cb*-
ffiiS, CHJIbHbIM, KptHKiS
B'fexep'b, mxopMij.
GaliIee,rajiHjieMcKoe Mope.
Galileo, PajiHjrefi.
gall, CAnpaxb Kosy, caR-
H'fixb, CesnoKOHXb; —
ing,HenpiflXHfiifi,ocKop-
GHXejIbHBlfi,
gallant, xpaGpei^-b; xpa-
6pwfi, AoSjecxHbiH, xo-
pomiS, SHaxHbifi, bbjih-
KOJliUHblH, KpaCHBwS;
— iy, xpaSpo, AoSjiecT-
Ho; — ry, ynxHBOCXb,
jiK)6e3HHHaHbe; — s,6paM-
cejiHj the ship had
her — s up, y Kopa6jH
SpaMCejIH SblJIH npHBH-
3aHH.
gallery, ra^iepea.
galley, KyxHH, KaMfiys-b.
gallon, rajeaoKT. (BHna
— 2,46 uixoa>a).
gallop, cKaHb, rajion-b;
to — away, ycKaKaxb.
gallows, BHCfeJIHI^a.
gambol, ptsBocxb, lua-
jiocxb; to play — s, npo-
Ka3HXb.
game, Hrpa, saSaBa, oxo-
xa, xpaBja, An^b; —
keeper, jticHHiiH, cmo-
xpnxejib 3a Anibio.
gaming, nrpanie 3a AeHb-
FH, nrpa; — house, arop-
HblS A0M1>, KapxeffiHHfi
AOM-b; — table, Kapxoi-
Hblfi CX0JI1..
gang, uiaSKa.
gangrene, raHrpena, aH-
XOHOBIj OJOHb,
47
— 370 —
gangway , ujKa<i>yTi,.
garb, onemji^a,, njiaxBe.
garden, ca?;i.; — er, ca-
SOBKHKIj.
garret, nepsaKT,.
garrison, rapHHsoHij,
gas, rasi,.
gasp, Cb TpyjOM-b RBI-
maxb, zaffBixaTbCHj the
foam of bis — ing,
n*Ha nocji'6/iHHro ero
H3ii;i.ixaHi3.
gate, BopoTa; — way,
npotsffiia BopoTa.
gather, coSapaxb, • co(5n-
paTbcs.
Gaul, FajiJiiH. ra.TJii,.
gave, CM. give.
gay, BecejiBia , atHBofi,
SjJHCTaxejibHbiM.
gaze, inpHcxajbHo) rjta-
Aixb Ha 1X0, jHn,e-
spSxb (Bora).
gazette, rasexa, B'fi3;o-
Mocxb; I'll have a —
of my own, y Mena
6ysex'i rasexa cboh.
gear, yxBapb.
gem, aparoi;'feHHbifi Ka-
lieHb.
genealogy, po^ociioBie ,
reHe;'joriH.
general, reHepajHj; rene-
pajibHbifi, rjiaBHbiH, o5-
n;ifi , o6mecxBeHHbifi,
06UKH0BCHHHH} — in
chief,rjiaBHorfOMaH;;yio-
mifijin— , •— ly,Boo6me,
oSbiKHOBeHHo, — ity,
6ojibUiaH Hacxb.
generation, poa-i, hoko-
alHie.
generosity, BCJinKOAymie,
6Jraropo;^cxBO,^^eflpocxb,
generous, BejHKo/tyiuHwS,
6.iaropoji,Hbiii, me,;ipwfij
— ly, BeJ^^Ko;^yraHO.
genial, nao/ioHocHuS.
genius, reHiM.xBopqepKifi
yMT>.
Genoa, renyH.
Genoese, renysseq^; re-
HysscKiM.
gentile, asHHHHK'b ; asbi-
qecKifi.
gentle, KpoxKiM, MHjbift,
H'feyKHbiM, MSrKiQ, HOKa-
xbifi, oxjiorift ; a —
stroke, jierKifi y^iapt) —
tly, xnxo, EpoxKO, no-
cxeneHHO.
gentleman, qe joBiK-b fijia-
ropojHaro nponcxoat-
AeniH, rociiORHHi., JKen-
xjibMeHt; country — ,
ceJibCKiii 3;BopaHnH'B; —
in waiting, KaMepan-
Hep-b; gentlemen pen-
sioners, xtJioxpaHHxe-
JH, yHpeatseHHbie Fen-
PHXOMT. VII ^JTH OXpa-
Henia anrjiificKnx'b ko-
pcieii, KaatsBifi hstj
9X11X1) rBap;ieftiieB'b no-
jiyHajEb no 100 oynx.
CT. roflOBaro cosepata-
Hia.
gentry, seMCKoe flBopaH-
CXEO.
geographical, reorpa<i.H-
lecKift; — ly, reorpa-
4H4eCKH.
George, Feopdit, EropTj.
German, HtMez^T., Fep-
ManeuTb; H'£Memfiii,rep-
MaHCKiil; — y, FepMa-
hIh.
gesticulation, x■fe.llo/^BH-
ateHie, atecTHKyjHi?iH,
naHxoMHMa.
gesture , mccTh , t*jo-
get, npioSpixaxb, /jocxa-
saxb, nojiyMaxb, ^-b-
jiaxbCH, Roxo;^HXb; to —
aboard, cajjarbca aa
(cy;^Ho),to -alongside,
ffoSpaxbCfl ;;o Sopja}
to — back , npH/iTH
Hasaa-bi to — cast away,
6MXb BwOpomeHHUMT.
Ha (Mejib, Gepefb); to
— down, cxojhxb; to —
hold of, cxBaxbiBaxb,
yxBaxbiBaxbca saj to —
in, caRHXbca (bi ko-
jracKy a np.); to — into,
BxopiHxbjCaataxb bohto;
to — off, OXBHSHBaXbi
to — on, ycntBaxb; to
— on any thing, b36h-
paxbCfl Ha Hxojto — on
board, caAHXbCfl na ko-
paSjib , oxnpaBJiflxbCfl
Ha KOpaSjIb, BHXaCKH-
Baxb Ba cyftHo; to — out,
BblHHMaXb , BblMaHH-
•MaXb, BbJXOAHXb, tO
out of bed, BcxaBaxb
ch iJocxejiH; to — pos-
session , saBJiaRtBaxb
qijirb; to — ready, npa-
roxoBJflXb ; to^-rid of,
nsSaBJiflXbca, ocBo6offi-
^axbcaoxrbjto — through,
^poxo;^Hxb,^po6Hpaxb-
caj to — to, floSHpaibCfl
flo ; to— together, co6a-
paxbca ; to— up, ^o;^-
HHMaxbca , BSJiiaaTb,
Bcxaaaxb; to — upon
one's knees, cxaxb na
KOJitHHj to — upon the
bottom , BBJilicxb Ha
RHO; — some more, npa-
Hecnxe emej what have
we got for dinner, hto
y HacT) 6yAexT) kt. ofit-
ghost, ayxT., npHBHA*Hie.
giant, BejHKaHT., Hcno-
JinH-b.
Gibraltar, FHCpajixapi,.
gift, flRpoBaHie, /tap*.
— 371 —
gig, ORHOKOJIKa.
gild, aojiOTHTb, nosjia-
maTb, yKpauiaxb.
gill, Ka6pM (y ph6w),
pynefi, ropHuM noiOKt.
gilt, no30Jio>ieHflwft) cm.
TaExe gild.
gin, HmUH'b, M05KHteBejI0-
Baa BOftRa.
ginger, anfinpb.
gipsy, i;biraH'i., AbiraHKa;
— woman, ^bI^aHKa.
gird on the eword, ne-
penoacaTb hjih Ha;^'feTb
weHT..
girdle, noac-b, KymaKi.
girl, A*ByuJKa, /itBO'iKa.
give, /^asaxb, ^epe/^aBaTb,
no;;aBaTb , OT;^aBaTb ,
;^0CTaBJIflTbi to — a blow,
HaHOCHTb ysap'b; to — a
groan, HcnycKaTb ciOHt
to — a letter, ynoTpe-
6jiaTb 6yKBy; to — any
one a beating, noSiixb
Koro; to — a passage
from a book, npoqa-
Taxb MtcTO HSii KHHra;
to — a song, cntTb ntc-
HK)} to — attention,
oCpamaTb BHHMaHie ;
to — a verdict, npoHS-
HOCHTb npHroBOpij ; to
— away, OT;^aBaTb) to
— back, OTCxynaTb;
to — encouragement,
noompaxb; to — great
care to, oSparqaxb Ha
qio Sojibmoe BKHManiej
to — ground J oxcxy-
naxb; to - high pro-
mi6e,o6'ljmaxb mhoxo xo-
pomaro, no;iaBaxb 6ojib-
mia Ha;^effiAw; to — in
charge, nopyiaxb, npH-
KasbiBaxb; to — offence,
ofiHHjaxb, cepAHXb; to
— orders for, saKa-
saxbj to — suspicion,
B036yHtftaxb noAOspt-
Hiej to — thanks, npa-
HOCHXb CjiaroAapenie ;
to— up,ycxynaxb,ocxa-
BJflxb , oxKasMBaxbca
oxt, Bbi^aBaxb} to— Tip
to, nocBamaxb; to —
way, noAAaBaxbca, y-
cxyaaxb.
given, CM. give.
glad, paAt; to make — ,
to — , paAOBaxb; — ly,
oxoxHo; — some, pa-
AOCXHblH.
glade, nporajiHHa, npo-
ctKa.
glance, ciaHie, Bsopi.,
BsrjiaA'b; giving a sin-
gle —,B3rjiflHyB'i) pasTj)
to — , fijiHcxaxb, CBep-
Kaxb.
glaring, oieBHAHM^jCTpaH-
Hbifi, nopasHxejibHbifi.
glass, cxeicjio, cxaKaHt,
piOMKa; — y, cxeKJian-
Hblft , CXeKJIOBHAHBlfi ,
HHCXHH.
gleam, MCjibKaxb, ciaxb,
6jiHCxaxb.
glebe, soMJiH, noiBa.
gleeman, MysHKaHx-b, nt-
Bej^Ti.
glen, AOJit, AOJiHHa.
glide, cKOJbSHXb, xeib,
KaxHXLca) to — along
upon, Kaxaxbca no.
glimpse, cianie, Jiyit;
to catch a— of, BHA^xb
MeJIbKOMTj.
glitter, 6jiHcxaxb, cBep-
Kaxb.
globe, scMHofi map-B.
gloom, xeMHoxa, MpaKt }
— y, MpaHHbifi.
glorious, cjiaBHua.
glory, ciaBa.
glove, nepnaxKa.
glow, nw-it, ffiapt; to—,
nbijiaxb, ropl&xb; — ing,
nwjiKift, n.iaMeHHijaj —
worm, CB^xjaET).
glue, K.!ieS.
go, xoAHTb, HAXH, cxy-
naxb, txaxb, oinpa-
BJiaxbca; not to — far
in, AaJiCKO ae XBaxaxbj
to — about, oCxoAHxb,
xoAiixb no, npoxaffiH-
Baxbca no; to — away,
yxoAiixB, yfisjKaxb; to
— down , cnycKaxbca,
xoHyxb, HAXH KO AHy;
to — into, BxoAHTbj to
■ — into the fashions of
others, noApaffiaxb mo-
AaMi. ApyrHXT.; to —
near, noAxoAnxb, npn-
6jiHffiaxbca; to — on,
npoAOJiffiaxb, npoAO.ii-
Hiaxb nyxb, npoHCxo-
AHXb, coBCpmaxbca; to
— out, EblXOAHXb, ox-
npaBJiaxbca, racHyxbj
to— out to service, na-
HHMaXbCH Krb KOMy Brb
ycJiyjEBHie; to — over,
nepexoAHXb, nepenpa-
BJiaxBca ; to — over-
board, 6pocaxbca sa
Gopx-b ; to — round,
niixb icpyroByio; to — ■
through, npoXOAHXbj
to — to bed, HATH cnaxb,
jiOffiHXbca cnaxb; -to —
to see a person, ox-
npaBJiaxbca Kt Komy
HnfiyAb Bi) rocxH; to —
up, HAXH, txaxb, noji,-
xoAaxb.
goal, u.'fejib.
goblet, EyfioK-b, 6oKa.i'b.
God, Bor-b; — dess, 6o-
THHa; — father, specx-
Hbifi OTe^'b.
going, xo/TtAenie, xoa^;
— 372 —
to be — , co6HpaTbCH,
rOTOBHTbCH, XOTtTb.
gold, 30JI0T0} — , — en,
30.!I0T0S.
g0n6, ymejit, y^xaji-b,
CM. go; all his means
were — , oht. jiHcuHjicfl
BC'fex'b cpe^iCTB'B; if life
80 soon is — , ecjiH
HCHSHb TaKT. CKOpO UpO-
xoAHT-bj when I am —
Kor;;a MeHfl ne 6yAeT'b.
good, Ao6po, nojibsa; ao-
. 6pi.iS, xopomiflj — s,
noffiHTKH, BemH, TOBa-
pti; — bye, npomaM!
npomauxe! — humour-
edly , Bt BecejiOMt
pacnojioiKeHiH syxa; a —
ly number, nopHAO<i-
Hoe HHcao; — man, xo-
aHHHT), AOMOXCSaHH'b)
— natured, Ao6po/i;yui-
hhS; — sized, cxat-
hhM} but staying be-
hind will do him no — ,
HO ecJiH a OTCxaey OTt
npOHEXTj, TO OT'B 9TOro
eikiy noJibSBi ne Gy^eTT..
goose, rycb; — berry bush,
KpbiH{OBHHKi>; — berry
wine, KpUfflOBHHKOBKa.
gore, KpoBb, 3aneKmaflCH
KpOBb.
gorgeous, nwuiHHM, Be-
JIHKOJI'fenHWM, pOCKOUl-
HblS.
gospel, eBaarejiie.
got, CM. get.
Gothic, roTecKift.
gouty, noftarpHiecKifi; a
~ man, noAarpHK-B,
CTpafflAymifi noAarpoH).
govern , ynpaBJiJiTb ; —
ment, npaBjienie, y-
npaBjcenie, BJiaA^Hie,
BJiaCTb, npaBHTCJIbCTBO,
ryCepHia;— ment house
AOMTb r/i,* noMlbma-
eTCfl npaBHTejibCTBO ;
— or, npaBHTejib, ry-
6epHaT0p'b; — or-gene-
ral, reHepaji'b-rjrSep-
Haxopt; theybelong to
the — or-general for
the time being, ohh
npi'iHaAJteHjaTt ren.-ry-
Sepnaxopy sa Bpeiaa
ero npaBJienia.
gown, HteHCKoe ujiaxbe,
MaHxia; a bishop's — ,
enHCKOncKaa pnsa.
grace, npiaxHOCXb, rpa-
i;ifl, MHjiocxb, 5jiaro-
Aaxb, sacxoJibHaa mo-
.iHXBa; His Grace, Ero
CBlfeXJIOCTb (cxapHHHbiS
XHTy.!!! Kopojiefi) ; to
say — , iipoHHxaxb jio-
jiHXBy 3a cxcjiomtj} to — ,
yAOCTOHBaxb; — ful,rpa-
i^iosHbiH, MHjiBifi;— ful-
ness, npiaxHOCTb, mh-
jiOBHAHOcxb, npejiecxb.
gradation, nocxenenHOcxb.
gradual, nocTeneHHWMj—
ly, nocxeneHHO.
grain, 3epHO,3epHa,xji'fe5'b,
3epH0B0H XJI^ST).
grand, BejinnecxBeHHuS,
BejiHKOJi'fenHbiS, BejiH-
Ki8, FJiaBHufij the —
fleet, fiojibuiaa acKaA-
pa;
eur, BejiHHie;
father, AtflTj; — mo-
ther, 6a6Ka, 6a6yaiKa;
— son, BHyKtj great
— son, npasHyK-b.
granitic, rpanHXHbiM.
grant, stajiOBaxb, noffia-
jOBaxb, AftBaxb, coFJia-
maxbca.
grape, EHHorpaATj.
graphic, rpa^uiecKifi, kh-
BOnHCHwfi.
grapple, ci;'fenJiflTbca.
grasp, xBaxKa, BJiacTb;
he kept his dying — ,
OHt yMHpaa He BHny-
cKajii) HST. pyKT.; to — ,
XBaxaxb, cxBaxHBaxb,
yxBaxiiBaxbca 3a.
grass, xpaBa ; — green,
xpasaHoS i^Btx-b.
grate, KaMHHi,; to—, xpy-
CXtXb, CKpHH'fexb, Xpe-
n^axb.
grateful, iipHBHaxejibHwS,
SjiaropoAHbiS.
gratify, yaoBjexBopaxb,
yrojKAaxb , Harpaffiffaxb;
to be gratified with a
sight of it, HMlfexb y-
AOBOJibcxBie BHA'lbxb ee;
— ing, yAOBJiexBopn-
xejbHbifi, npiaxHwfi.
gratitude, Sjiaro^apHOCxb.
gratuitous, AapoBofi, fies-
AeHeffiHbiS; — ly, ^a-
poMT,, 6e3njraTHO.
grave, Mornjia; BajKHuSj
cepbesHbifi; — ly, cepb-
esHo.
gravitation, xarox-bHle.
gravity, BaajHocxb, cxe-
neHHOCxb.
gravy, noA^iHBKa.
gray, c*pbiM; — friar,
Kanyi^Huei^T.; — hound,
6op3aa co6aKa.
graze, cjierKa 3aA*BaTb.
grease^ cMasbiBaxb.
greasy, cajibHbiM, aaca-
JieHHHft, TpasHbiu.
great, BejinKiS, 6ojibmo8,
BbicOKifi; — coat(A.iHH-
Hbiil) cepxyKT); —grand-
son, npaBHyKT.; — ly,
ohchb; — ness, sejaqH-
Hs; the — ness of his
strength, BejiHKyio cboio
CHJiy.
Grecian, rpeK-b, Sjue-
HHCT-B.
— 373 —
Greece, ^pe^ifl.
greedily, ch ataRHocTbK).
Greek, rpeiecKiti hshki;
rpeHecKiS; to quote — ,
^pHBo;^HTb Mtcra h3Tj
rpeiecKHXT) nHcarejieM.
green, sejieHHft i;B'feT'b,
aejieHb ; aejieHHii ; —
wood, nOKptlTHIH JIHCTb-
HMH Ji-fec-b, sejieHwfi
JltCTb.
Greenland, ^peHJIaH/^iH.
Greenwich, rpHHHHT.;rpH-
HHHCKifi.
grew, CM. grow,
grey, greyhound, cm. pray,
grief, ropecTbj nenajib,
rpycTb.
grievance, ffiajio6a, th-
rocTb, TflrocTHOe no-
jiOHtenie.
grieve, oropMaxb, rope-
Baxb, rpycTHTb.
grievons, THHiKifi, orop-
"JHTejIbHblHjrOpeCTHblfi,
onacHbiil; — ly, thsko,
Kpa^He.
grimly, yrpioMO, OTspa-
THxeabHO, yatacHO.
grin, sySocKajibCTBO, CMt-
HHie,
grind, pasftpofijaTbca, yr-
HCxaTb, npHTtCHflTb;
to— the teeth, cKpeste-
Taxb 3y6aMH; — ing of
teeth, cKpeatexaHie sy-
. 6aMH, CKpeateTT. sySoBT,,
gripe, KorxH, nacTb.
groan, cxoh^, to — , cxo-
Haxb, 6pio3ffiaxb; — ing,
CTOHame, cxoh-b.
grog, rport.
grogram, rporpaHt; rpo-
rpaHOBbifi (as-b Bep-
CjriOHtbeS mepcrH).
groom, KOHioxi., cxpe-
MfiHHOii.
grope, xoAHXb omynbio.
gross, i^tJibHbiH, rypxo-
BbiS, rpy6b]H, HecicpoM-
HHtt, HeyMTHBbifi; — ly,
rpy6o, secbMa, oneHb.
ground, cm. grind.
ground, seuan, M'ficxo,
MtcxHOcxb, ocHOBaaie,
npHiHHa; rising — , bo3-
BbinieHiej BosBbimeHHoe
M-fecxo; — floor, hhs-
Hifi gxaffiij; — swell,
npHSbiBanie BOjs,hi noffTj
jibflOM-b ; — thorough-
fare, noAseMBbiM" npo-
xo;^'b HJiH npo'fes;;'!).
group, rpynna.
grove, poma.
grow, pacTH, Bospacxaxb,
yBejiHiBBaxbcfl, cxaHO-
BHXbCfl, ftlbjiaTbCH; to —
up^ noflpacxaxb, Bwpa-
cxaxb; he grew tired,
eMy HacEyiHJio.
grown, CM. grow.
grumble, Bopnaxb, 6pio3-
Hcaxb.
guarantee , rapanxapo-
Baxb, pyqaxbcfl, oxBt-
Haxb 3a 4X0.
guard, cxpaffla, 3amHxa,
oxpaHenie , Kapayjii. ,
iiacoBoft, cxopoffit^rBap-
p;ia, ocxopoHtHOCTb; the
officer of the — , Ka-
payjtbHbiu o*Hi;ep'b; to
put any one on his — ,
npe/i;ocxeperaxb Koro;
to — , xpaHHxb, oxpa-
Hflxb, ocxeperaxbCfl,6e-
peibca; — house, raynx-
Baxxa; — ian, xpana-
xejib, oxpaHHxejibHHft;
— ian angel, aHrejit
xpaHHxejib.
guess, yra/^wBaxb, ffora-
;;biBaxbCH.
guest, rocxb.
guggle, CM. gurgle.
Guiana, rBiana hjh riana.
guidance, pyKOBORcxBo;
God's — , npoMwcejiii
BoatiS.
guide, npoBOftHHKi; to—,
pyKOBOACXBOBaxb, yKa-
SUBaxb nyxb, npoBO-
ffiaxb, npaBHXb, ynpa-
BJiaxb.
guildhall, paxyuia.
guilt, BHHa; — less, 6e3-
brhhwh; — y, bhhob-
HblS, BHHOBaXblfi.
guinea, rHeea (21 niHJi-
jiHHrb, OKOJio 7 py6.)
Guinea, rsuHea; — man,
EynenecKoe cy^HO cjiy-
acamee ktj nep6603y xo-
BapOBT)* B-b rBHHeiO.
guise, oepas-b.
guitar, THxapa.
Gulf of Guinea, rBHHeft-
cKifi sajrHBi)) — Stream,
sajiHBHoe xeqeaie.
gun, nyuiKa, apxHJijepift-
CKoe opyflie, pysbe; —
deck, roHp;eK'b, HHateiS
neK-b; — powder, no-
pox-b; — powder plot,
nopoxOBoS saroBopii ;
— wale, mKa«yx'b.
gurgle, KJiOKOxaxb, Htyp-
qaxb.
gush, 6pbi3raxb, cxpe-
Muxbca.
gust, CHJIbHblft BHesauHuS
nopbiBT. Btxpa.
Guy, Bax-b.
H.
ha, a! axT>!
Habeas Corpus Act, aKxt
0 .IHIHOS CBo6o;^'fi.
habit, 0A*aHie, OAeatsa,
oSbiKHOBCHie, o6Hqafi,
374 —
npHBbiHKa; to be in
the — , HMtTb npHBHq-
• Ky; — ation, o6HTaHie,
stHJiHme} — ually, npa-
BI>I"1H0, no npHBHIK'fi.
hackney -coachman, hsbo
i^HK-b, HaeMHBiM Ky-
qepi).
had, CM. have.
Hadrian, AApiaai..
hail, rpa/^T., npHB'BTCTBie;
all — , xBaaa TeClb! to
— , ■ npHBlfeTCTBOBaTb ,
OKJiHEaxb; — stone, rpa-
;^HHa.
hair, bojiocu.
half, noJiOBHHa, b-b nojio-
BHHy, noJiy, nojitj —
an hour, nojiHacaj —
moon, nojiyMicai^Ti; —
penny, nojiyneHHH; —
way, nojtOBHHa Ropo-
rH, noJiOBHHa; who was
not for doing things
by halves, KOTopwM ne
jhoQhjitj He;^OBepalaTb
Haiaxaro.
hall, sajia, nepeffHHfl sa-
jia, najtara, rajijiepefl,
nopTHKi>, Mwsa; ser-
vants' — , jiaKeftcKaa,
;^'feB^4bH.
halt, ocTaaaBJiHBaTbCfl.
ham, BexHHHa, OKopoiti..
hammer, MOJioTOK'b.
hand, pyKa,JIa;^OHb jcxptji-
Ka (y HacoB-b)-, CTopo-
Ha; — to — , pyKonam-
HUMT) 6oeM'i5 at — ,
6jiH3KO,B6jiH3u;to have
a— in, yiacTBOBaxb bt.;
to — , Bpyiaxb, no^a-
Baxbj to — in, BBORHXb
sa pyity; to — over, ne-
pe^aBaxb; — ful, ropcxt;
— kerchief, njiaxoK'bj
KOcwHKa; — loom, pyq-
Hofi TKai^Kifi cxaHOKt;
maiden, cjiysiaHKa,
ycjiyffiHHri;a;
some
KpaCHBblfi, npHJIHHHHft
(o BosaarpaffiAeHin) ;
— somely, me^po.
handle , nocxynaxb CT>
Ki6MTj,3aHiiMaxbca itM-b.
hang, BHcfixb, Btniaxb,
nOBiCHXt, oSB'felUHBaxb,
ySnpaxbj to — against,
anything, noBtcnxb Ha
qxo; to — round any
one, npHi;ifenjiHXbCH kt,
KOiiy; to — up, Btuiaxb}
to upon, 6Mxb btj xa-
rocxb, o6peMeHaxbj —
ing,EHcaqiM,noBHCjiwfi,
noBHCuiiSj — ings, flpa-
nnpoBKa.
hanimal, cm. animal-
Hanover, FaHOBep-b.
hap, yfl;aqa, cjiyiafi;— less,
HeciacxHBiM.
happen,c.iy4axbca; to— to
awaken, CJiynaMHO npo-
6yAHXbcaj I do not —
to recollect, a qxo-xo
He noMHio; — ed to take
place, KOrsa-xo cjiy-
4HJica; who — ed to
wait on them^ koxo-
poM cjiyqHJiocb npncjiy-
ffi'HBaXb HMT..
happily, cviacxjiUBO, 6jia-
ronojyHHO, Kt ciacxiio.
happiness, cqacxie.
happy, cnacTJiHBbiS, y^ai-
HblS.
harangue, p*4b; to — ,
roBOpaxb pt'ib, npH-
BfiXCXBOBaXb.
harass, xepsaxb, xpeBO-
fflHXb.
harboor, raBanb , npH-
cxaHb;— dueSjOpHcxan-
aaa noiujHHa.
hard, xBepAbi8, KptuKifi,
xpy^HbiB; onehb, Becb-
Ma, CHJibHo; to — en,
TBepfl;'fiTb, OEptnjiaxb,
OHtecxoiaxb , OHtecxo-
HaxbCH;the — est-work-
ed river, ptna pa6o-
xaiomaa 6ojifcme bcI&xt;
— lyjCb xpyA0M^3,e;^Ba;
— ship, xpy;^HOcxb, hc-
yftoScxBO , npeBpax-
Hocxb ,.xarocxb; — w ar e ,
HtejitsHbia HJiH cxajib-
HHa HSAtJiia; — wood,
xBep3,oe ftepeBo; — y,
/i;K)ffliS, Kp-bnKifi, CMt-
jibiS, 0XBa3CHbi3.
hare, saai^'B.
hark, cjyuiafi! cjiymaSxe!
harlequin, apjieKHHi).
harm, bpca-b.
harp,ap4a; — er,ap«Hcx'B.
harpoon, rapnyH-bjKonbe,
OCXpOra , KOXOpHMH
6bK)x'b khxobtj h ffpy-
THX-B PHCIj.
harsh, JKecxKiS, cypoBaS,
cxporifi.
hart, ojieHb (^IecxH^o/^o-
boM).
harvest, maxBa.
has, CM. have.
haste, nocH'feuiHOcxbjin —
cntina; I am in — , h
xoponjiiocb; to make — ,
cnimaxb; to — n,xopo-
nnxb, cntiuHxt, nocn£<
maxb.
hastily, cntuino, no-
cntniHO.
hasty, nocntruHufi, xo-
ponjEHBbifi, 6e3pa3cyff-
HHfi, Heo6;;yMaHHMft.
hat, mjiana.
hatch, hatchway, jiiokt..
hate, HeHaBH;^'fexb; — ful
HeHaBHCXHUfi.
hathrrhas, CM. have,
hatred, HenaBucxb.
375 —
haagbty, cnecnBuH, HaA-
MeHHuM.
baal, TamHTt; to— forth,
BUTacKHBaxb; to — in,
THHyTb, Bu6HpaTb cjia-
6HHy; to — on board,
BbiramHTb Ha cy^HO.
haunt, ocajK;5aTb, npecji*-
ffOBaTb, oSesnoKOHBaTb.
have, HM'6Tb,X0Tl&TI.,Hafli-
jieHtaTb; I— , H HMilO,
y MCHH ecTb; I — many
places to call at, eme
MHOro M'fccT'b, Kyffa h
ffojiHteHTj saSxH; he has
had his reward, eiiy
no R'fejiaM'b H Harpa;(a;
he had his boots cle-
aned, 0H1) Bejitjn. BM-
HHCTHTb CBOH canorH;
Bill has not to bark in
vain, Ehjik) jiaaTb Ha-
npacHO He npHxoAHTca;
he has to be very
wakeful, oht: ROJtffieHi.
MHoro So^pcTBOBaTb ;
we had to wait long,
HasiT. npHmjiocb ^o-iro
a^aTb; had you rather
not, Bm 6ojibuie ne
H5ejiaeTe?youhad better
take, Bbi 6bi jiy<inie
bshjih; that they had
better try and learn,
HTO HMt jiyHuie HaftoS-
HO nocTapaTbCfl ysnaTb;
to— breakfast, saBxpa-
KETt; to— made, saKa-
SHsaxb; to— on, HJi'feTb
Ha ce6*, OwTb bt. qeM-bj
to — one's will, ocxa-
BaXbCH npHCBOeW'bMH'fi-
hI-h; to let — , ;^aBaxb.
hawk, C0K0Jii>; to — , cny-
CKaxb coKoaoB-b; — ing,
coKOJiHHaH oxoxa.
hay, ciHO; — band, nyKt
e'bHa, CBflaRa clHa.
hazard, pncRtjOnacHOCTb;
at all —8, BO HTO 6bi
TO HH cTaJo; to — , pii-
cKOBaxb, OTBaatHBaTbcs;
— ous, onacHbiS, pir-
CKOBaHHblfi.
haze, xyMan-b.
hazel, op'fiiunHa, op*ui-
hhk'b; opI&xoBbifi.
head, roJiOBa, rjiasa, na-
HaJtbHAKTi, BCpUIHHa,
BepXOBbe, BCT04HHK'b,
nepeflOBoe bohcko, HOCb
(y Kopafijifl); fool's — ,
,'^ypa^Kifi KOJfnaKijjto — ,
HanajibCTBOBaTb, npe^-
ROfl;HTejibCTBOBaTb; —
dress, tojobhoH yOopij;
— land, MHct; a — ,
CM. ahead.
health, 33;opoBbe; — y,
3ffOpOBblM.
heap, Kyqa, rpy^a, TOJina.
hear, cjibimaxb, cjiyuiaxb,
BwcjiyiuHBaxb , ycjiw-
xaxb; to — from, no-
jynaTb nncbiao OTh; —
ing, cjEyx-b; — say,
HacjiHuiKa, cjiyxi..
heard, cir. hear.
heart, cep^iie; by -, Ha-
HsycTb; to be of good — ,
co6paTbCfl cb fi;yxoMTj,
KptnaxbCH ffyxoM-b) —
ily, cepffeqHO, ycep^HOj
I have eaten very —
ilyjanopflAKOM-b notJii.;
— y, cepfleHHbia, ycep^-
Hwfi, KpinKifi.
hearth, OHar-Lj — money,.
noflbiMHwM cSopt.
heat, atap-b; the — of the
weather. jKapKaa no-
roAa; to — , BocnjraMe-
HHTb.
heath, cxenb.
heathen, HsbiiHHR'b; asbi-
qecKifi.
heave, nOAHHiwaTbCH; to
— in sight, noKasbi-
BaTbcn.
heaven, He6o, pafi; for
Heaven's sake, pa^H
Bora.
heavily, Taatejo.
heavy, THwejibift, cnjib-
HHfi (o ROffiA*); a —
sea, SypHoe Mope; she
gave a — sigh, owa
rJiySoKO BSflOxnyjia; —
armed, cm. arm.
Hebrew, eBpeficKift.
he'd, CM. he would.
hedge, jkhboA saSopi..
heed, BHHMaHie, ocxopoat-
HOCTb; — lessness, He-
BHHMaxejIbHOCTb , Heo-
CXOpOfflHOCXb-
heel, naxKa; to go at any
one's — s, no oHTaM-b
npec.!i1&/i;0Baxb; to — ,
KpcHHTbca; to make — ,
HaKpCHHTb.
height, BbiniHHa, BHcoTa,
BosBbimeHie, HaiaSojib-
maa BwcoTa, BMcmaa
CTeneHb; to — en, bo3-
BbiniaTb, yBejHHHBaTb,
yKpauiaxb.
heir, HacjEtAHaK-Bj — es8>
HacjiiRHHi^a,
held, CM. hold.
hell, aflt, npeHcnOAHHH,
helm, pyjib.
helm, helmet, lujieMii.uiH'
maKT..
help, noMon^b) to — , no-
Moraxb, nocoSjiHTb, y-
cjiyajHBaxb, noflaBaxb,
HaKJraABiBaxb (na xa-
pejiKy), y/iepjKHBaTbCH;
to — to, noflasaTb, ^o-
cxaBJiHTb; — less, fies*
CHJibHbifi; — mate, cy-
npyn>, cynpyra.
belter-skelter , cxpeM-
376 —
rjaBT), onpoMeTtiOjKoe-
KaRii.
hem, o6py6aTi,; to— round,
OKpyataxt.
hemisphere, nojiymapie.
hemp, KOHonejib.
hence, oTciofla, oTt bto-
ro; — forth, — forward,
OTHBiHt, ct aroro Bpe-
MCHH, Enpeffb.
Henry, reHpaxii.
her, efl, efi.
herald, repojibAi'-
herbage, xpaBbi, najEnxb,
herd, CTa;i;o, xaSyH-b (jio-
ma^efi).
here, 3;^'£cb, ciofta)- and
there, tjtb h TaMt,
TaM-b H CflMTfa, MiCTailH,
BT. HRblXTj M'fiCTaX'bJ
— is, — are, bottj; — in,
B-b BTOMTiJ from — , OT-
CIo;^a.
hereditary, HacjitACTBen-
Hblfi.
here's, cm. here is.
heresy, epecb, pacKOJit.
heretic, epexHK'b, pacKOJit-
KHKl..
hero, repoS) — ic, repoH-
CKifi, epOHHBCKift.
herself, caiia, ona caMa,
ce6fl.
he's, CM. he is.
hesitate, KOJieGaxbca, 3a-
nHHaxbCH.
hesitation, MtiuKaHie, sa-
DHHaHie.
heyda, reM! bS!
hid, hidden, cm. hide.
hide, lUKypa, KoiKa; to- ,
cKpHBaxb.
hiding, npaxaHie;— place,
xafinnKt.
hie,cn'hmHXb, nocntniaxb.
hierarchy, iepapxia, cbh-
meHHOHaqajiie.
higgler, paauon^QR'b.
high, BbicoKifi, BejiHKiM,
BafflHBlft, CHJIbHblfij Bbl
mHHOH), B-b BblUlHHy,
pOCXOM-bJ BblCOKOj CHJIb-
• ho; with — pretensions
to, Ch SoJibmHMH npe-
xensiaMH Ha; on — , Ha
Bepxy,HaHe6'fe; — land,
ropnaa cxpaHa, rop-
Hbifi; Highland amuse-
ment, yfiecejieHie rop-
rtCBi.; the Highland
mountains, the High-
lands, ropH BblCOKOH
IIIoxjiaH3,iH) — lander,
ropHbiM acHxejib, ro-
pei^-b; — ly, bbicoko,
BeCbMa, OICHb, CHJTbHO,
bT) BbicoKofi cxeneHH}
— minded, BejnxoRyiu-
Hbiii; — ness, Bbicoqe-
CTBo; — road, — way,
Sojibuiaa ffopora; - spi-
rited, HbiJiKiii, ropaiifi,
ropftbifi; — wayman,
pasSoHHHKi. (na 6ojib-
niOH ;^opor'b).
hill, xdM-b, ropa ; — y,
xojiMHCXbiS, Syrpncxbifi.
him, erOj eny, cm. he.
Himalaya, IlMajaHcKiS,
himself, oh-b caMi>, caM-b,
ceSa; by — , ORnHt.
hind, MyfflHKt.
Hindoo, HHAOcxanei^'b; the
— widow, B/ioBa Hh-
;iocxaHi];a;— stance, Hh-
AOCxancKift nsbiKi..
Hindostan, llHRocxan'b.
hint, HaMCKij, npeflocxe-
peateHiej to — , naMe-
itaxb.
hirCjHaHHMaxb; — d,HaeM-
Hblfi
I his, ero, cBoft.
hiss, mnn'fixb,
historian, hcxophkt..
historic, historical, ncxo-
pniecKifi.
history, ncxopia, noBt-
cxBOBanie.
hit, nona^axb; to — on,
nona^axb bti.
hitch, sai^tnjraxbca.
hither, cio^a; — to, ro
CHx-b nop-b.
hive, yjieM.
ho, o! reS!
hoard, CKanjiHBaxb.
hobble, _3j)aMoxa3 6'^n&;
to get into a—, nona-
Raxb BTE> fiiAY; to — ,
xpoMaxb.
hobgoblin, ROMOBofi.
hog, CBHHba, fiopOBT..
hogshead, oKcro»x'b,6oHKa.
hoist, no/^HHMaxbjto— out,
cnycKaxb,
hold, sa/^ep5KKa, y;^epffla-
Hie, xpiOMTi, nnxpiOM-b;
to have — , ;^epa!axbCH;
to let go one's — , onyc-
Kaxb; to — , ffepaiaxb,
HM'feXb, BJIa;^'6Xb, nOHH-
xaxb, yflepffinBaxb, ffep-
Htaxbca; hold ! Aepatu!
cxofl! nocxofi! to — a
conversation, nepero-
napHBaxb; to — a feast,
sa^axb napij; to — a po-
sition, to — a station,
saHHMaxb M-fecxo; to —
in, y^epKHBaxb; to — in
horror, npHBOAHTb bt.
ystacb; to — on , ffep-
HtaxbCfl; to — out, npo-
xarnaaxb, pepataxbca;
to — to, noffaBaxt; to —
up, no;;HHMaxb; to — va-
luable preferment-, aa-
HHMaTb BblCOKyiO fl;0JIHt-
HOCXb.
hole, Awpa, oxBcpcxie,
HMa.
holiday, npas^^HHE'b,
— 377
Holland, ToJiJianAia.
holloa, reft! cjiymafi!
hollow, Bna;inHa,nycTOTa,
GesRHa, nynHHa; rjry-
xoft; BnojiH'fe, coBCfeMt;
to — out, BH^ajiGjii-
Baxb.
Holstein, PojuuTHHia.
holster, HyuiKH {ji^an nn-
CTOJieTa).
holy , CBHTOft , CBHmeH-
Hblft.
homage, noKjiOHeHie,6jra-
rorOBtHie, npHcara btd
BlipHOCTH; to pay — to
any one, OKaswBaxb
KOMy rjiySoHaftuiee iio-
HTeHie.
home, romtj, 0THH3Ha, po-
ffHHa, poRHaH cxpana;
p;0M0u; — country, po,'^-
Haa cTopoHa; at — , ;^o-
Ma; — made, /[.oMani-
HHro neneHin.
honest, necTHbiS; — y,
necTHOCTb; a life of — y,
HecTHaa jkiishb.
honey, Me^-t.
honor, honour, necTi., no-
lecTLj person of — ,
neCTHMU HeJIOB'tKlj ,
6jiaropOAHi>iS n.jYour — ,
6ama MnjiocTh; to — ,
nOHHTaXb, MTHTb, y^o-
CTOHBaxb H'feM'B} — able,
noqexHwu ,
CJiaBHblH.
nOHXeHHblll.
Honorius, ToHopift.
hood, leniHKTb, KanopT5,
KJioSyKt MOiiaiiiecKiS.
hoof, Konbixo.
hook, KpioK-b.
hoop, KCibi^e.
hop, xiitJibj — mei'cliant,
xM'fejieBOA'b.
hop, npbiraxb, noffnpbirH-
Baxb.
hope, Ha^jeffinaj In— s, btj
HaAemA'Jfe j to — , na-
AliHTbCH, Offln^axb; —
less, 6e3Ha/i,eatHwft; es-
cape was now — less,
Ha cnacenie xenepb
yffie He 6hjio Ha^eiKAW.
Horace, ^opa^ift.
horizon, ropHsoHxi..
horn, por-b, pofflcKij; — ed,
poraxBiS.
horrible, ymacHbiS.
horrid, y/KacHHu, rnyc-
HblU,
horror, yHcacb.
horse, Jiomasb, BOHHHU,a;
jiouiaAnHbifi, kohhuH;
on — back, BepxoMi); —
man, BcaAnHK-b;— man-
ship, BepxoBaa tsAa,
HCKyCXBO tSAHXb Bep-
xoMt; — pistol, itap-
jiaHHwil naexojieT'B; —
pond, KynajJbHa ]!i,jia.
jiouiaAefi-, — soldier,
KOHHblU coJisaxTj, Ka-
Bajiepncx'b.
hose, uixaHbi.
hospitable, rocxenpinM-
HWfl.
hospitably, rocxenpJHMHO.
hospital,romnHxajib,6oJib-
HHna;— ity, rocxenpiaM-
CXBO, XJllfeSoCOJIbCXBO.
host, xosaHHt, xpaKXHp-
mHKT>, BOHCKO, paXb ;
— age, sajiojKHHKxv, —
elry, cxcjb, rocxuHHH-
ij,a; — ile, nenpiaxejib-
ckIB, BpaatAeOHbifi; —
ility, HefipiasHeHHOCXb,
BpaJK^a, Bpaffi/i,e6Hocxb,
HenpiaxejibCKoe (Boen-
Hoe) A*flcxBie; — ler,
KOHIOX'B B-B rOCXHHHH-
e;*, ftBopHnifb.
hot, JKapidM, ropaqiS.
hotel, rocxHHHHua, oxejib,
hound, roHHaa coSaKa.
hour, qact; — ly, cHte-
HacHO.
house, ffOM-b; — of Com-
mons, HH/KHifi napja-
Menx^b; — of entertain-
ment rocxHHHHii;a, o-
xejb; — of parliament,
najiaxa, napjEaMenx-b,
ffOMTb napjiaMeHxa; —
of Lords — of peers,
upper — , upper — of
Parliament , sepxHiii
napjiaMBHT'b ; reli-
gious — , Monacxbipb;
the — of God, ji^owb
BojKil, xpaMTi Focno-
^eHb; — hold, ^omt), xo-
saficxBO, ceiieficxBO, y-
npaBJieiiie ceMeficxBOMi.,
ftOMauiHia ; — keeper,
ABOpei];KiH, KJiioiHHiia;
— keeping , xosafi-
CTBO, ynpasjieHie xo-
SaficXBOM'b , ftOMOBO/i;-
cxBo; — less, SesftOM-
HbiS, GesKpoBHbiS; —
maid, ropuHHRaa, to — ,
yfinpaxb no^Tb Kpbimlty.
hove, CM. heave.
hover, nocnxbca.
how, KaKTj; — ever, or-
HaKO !Ke, CKOJIbKO 6h,
CKOJibKO Hu, KaK-b hh;
— is this, KaK-b 9xo
xaKTj?— long, AOJiro JiH,
flaBHO JIH
*>
many,
much, CKOJIbKO?— now,
ny 1X0 H!e?
howl, Bbixb; — ing, BoS,
Hudson's Bay, TyAcoHOB-b
oaJIHBTj.
hue, n.B'fex'b, oxxiBKa; —
and cry, npHKii na hto.
huge, orpoMHbiS.
Hugh, TyroHx,.
hulks, CjioKuiHifb.
hum, Hantaaxb.
human,HejioB'feHecKi8;— e,
48
378
qejIOB'feKOJIIoBHBBlfi; —
ely, HejioBtKOJiioSHBO 5
— ityj HejOB'feHecTBO,
HejiOB'feKOjrioSie.
humble, ckpohhbiM, hh3-
Karo coctohhIh; to — ,
ycMHpaxb,
huinbly, cMapeaHo
homour, HpaBi>^ npHxcxt,
pacnojioatenie ffyxa,
lOMOp-B.
hamp-backed, ropSaTBift;
Hun, TyHHT..
hundred, cto, cothh;
four — , HeTBipecTa ;
three — , TpncTa; two — ,
flBtCTH.
hung, CM, hang.
Hungarian, BeHrepcKiS.
hunger, rojiofl-B.
hungry, tojioahbim.
hunt, — ing, oxoxa, xpa-
BJTHJ to — , XpaBHXb, XO-
;^HXb Ha oxoxy, xHaxb-
CH sa qtM-b; — ing
• match, Bbi'fesfl'B o6me-
cxBOMii Ha oxoxy.
hurry, xopoiuiHBocxb; to
be in a — , xoponnxbca,
cntiiinxb; — skurry, btj
xoponaxT. , btj cyjia-
xoxt; to — , XOpOHHXb-
cflj to — away to pri-
son, CO Bceio nocH'feui-
HOCxilO OXBOftHXb BT)
TiopbMyi to — down,
CH'feuiHXbj to— ;into the
cascades, BBeprHyxb Bt
Bo;^o^a;l;bI; to— on, to-
ponnxbCfl , cniiiinxb ,
noftcxpcKaxb, do/^kh-
raxb.
hurt, Bpe;^^.; without — ,
HeBpejjjHM'b ; to — , no-
. Bpea{;^axb, npnnHHKxb
Bpej^f, I'll not —a hair
of your head, h Bainero
HH BOJOCKa He xpoHy.
husband, Myas'b.cynpyr'b;
— man, xji'feSonaraen.'b,
3eMJIe/^'feJIe^'b.
hut, xHffiHHa, niaaain'B,
hydraulic , rH/i;paBaHqe-
CKift.
hydrogen , boaoporhhS,
BOftOXBOpHHS.
hymn, rHMHrb, ntcHH.
I.
ice, Jie/i;^.
idea, sftea, Mbicjib.
identity, TostsecTBo,
idle, npa3fl;HbiH, jitHHBbiS.
idol, iiffojn,, EyMHpx.; —
atrouSj H/i;oj[onoKJiOHHn-
HecKifi; to — ize, 060-
ffiaxb.
if, ecjin, jih; as — , KaKt
6yflxo.
ignominious, nosopHbifi,
CesiecxKHit.
ignorance, HeBtatecxBo,
HCB't/i.'feHie.
ignorant, HeB*flymiii,6e3-
rpaMOXHbiii.
I'll, CM. I Will.
ill, 3JI0, Hecnacxie; xy-
;i;ofi, sypHofi, 6oJibHoft;
xyAf>) ?ypHO, njoxo,
cKBspHo; — nature,
cepAHxocxb.yrpiOMOcxb;
— natured, 3.!iofi, 6pi03-
rjiBBBiflj — ness, 60-
.iffesHb; — timed, Hey-,
Ml&cxHbiii; — will, He-
Ao6po)KeaaxejibcxBO.
illegal, He3aK0HHbiS.
illegitimacy, nesaKOHHoe
poK^eHie.
illicit, HeA03B0JiHxejrbHbifi,
3anpemeHHbiS,He3aK0H-
Hblfi.
illiterate, HeyneHbift, ne-
KHHffiHbiS , HerpaMOx-
HblS.
Illuminate , ocBtn^axb ,
pacKpauiHBaxb ; to —
one's pipe, 3aKypHBaxb
xpy6Ky.
illumination, ocBflmenie.
illumine, 03apflxb, npo-
CEtmaxb,
illusion , ofiojibn^eme ,
npHspaKT,.
illustrate , H3'bflCHaTb ,
noacHHXb,
illustration, H3tHCHeHie,
noacHCHie, npHBefteHie
Bt npHMtpt.
illustrious, cjiaBHbifl,3Ha-
MeHHXblfi, SHaXHBlfl.
I'm, CM. I am.
image, Boo6paffiaxb, bo-
o5paHcaxb ceSfi.
imaginable , Boo6pa3H-
Mblfi.
imaginary, BooSpajKae-
Mblit, MHHMblft.
imagination, BooSpase-
Hie.
imagine, BooSpawaxb.
to be imbedded in a
quagmire, sacfecxb bi.
SoJiox'B.
imitate, noApasaxb.
immediate, HeMeffjieHHHfi,
Henocpe/i,cxBeHHbiH; -~
ly, xoxHacTj, HenocpCiH-
CXBCHHO.
immense, gesMtpHHft, hb-
CMtxHBiJijnpeorpoMHbifi.
immersion, norpymeHie.
immidst, cpeffn, nocpe-
j[n, BT. cepeAHH*.
imminent, npe/i,cxoamifi,
yrpofflaicmiM.
immoderately, neyM*-
pCHHO.
immovable , HenoABHai -
Hwfi, HenoKOJieSHMwii.
379
impair, paacTpoiiBaxi..
impart, coofimaTB.
impassable, HenpoxoAii-
impatience, HerepnibHie,
Hexepn'fejiHBOCTb.
impatient , HeTepntjru-
Bbifi; to be — to do
anything, HtaiKAaTb qe-
ro, ffOMaraTiiCs qero; —
ly, HeTepn*JHBO.
impeach, bsbgshti, o6bh-
Henie Ha Koro, o6bh-
HHTb.
impede, npenaxcTBOBaTb,
M'feUiaTb.
impel, ^0Hy3K/^aTb, no-
6yiKdaTb, B036yjK/;aTb.
impending, Ha^BHCJibiH,
HaBl&CHblfi.
imperceptibly , nenpu-
M'bTHO,
imperfect, HecoBepuien-
HbiS, He/i;ocTaTOMHbiH;
— ly, HecoBepuieHHo,
He;tocTaTOHHO.
imperial, HMneparopcKiii.
impervious^ HenpoHHi;ae-
MblS.
impetuous, SyMnufi, nwji-
KiS.
impious, HeuecTHBHft.
implacable, HeyinojiHMbiii.
implement, opyAie, cHa-
paAi,.
implicit, 6e3ycaoBHbifi.
implore, ymojiaTb.
imply, sHaHHTb.
import, npiiBos'bj to — ,
npHBOSHTbj — ance,
BaffiHOCTb, 3HaHHTeJIb-
HOCTb; — ant,'BaHtHbifi.
importunate, fieaoTBHS'm-
BbiS, HeoTCTynHwfi.
importunity , AOKyHJia-
BOCTb, HaBflSIHBOCTb,
HCOTCTynHOCTb.
impose, Hajaraxb, Bosjia-
raxb} to — upon, oSwa-
HbiBarb.
imposing, BejiHiecTBen-
HblS.
imposition , Hajioffienie,,
BOSJiOffieHie.
impossibility, HeBosMOJK-
HOCTb.
impossible, neBosMOJKHbifi.
impost, Hajtorij, noftaxb,
nouijiHHa.
impotent, HeMomHHM,6e3-
CHJbHblS.
impracticable, Hencnoji-
HHMbiS, HeBOSMGHCHbltt.
impress, A*Jiaxb Bneiax-
jitHie, I felt — ed, mhoio
o6jia;;'fejia Mbicjib;— ion,
BiieHaxjiiHie; to be ve-
ry— ive, npoHBBORHXb
rjySoKoe Bneiaxji'fiHie,
CHJbHO A'fefiCTBOBaTb.
imprison, cafflaxb btj xiopb
My; — ment, BaxoneHie,
saKJiiOHeHie.
improbable, HeBtpoflXHbift,
improve, yjiyimaxb, co-
BepmeHcxBOBaxb, yjiyi-
EiaxbCfljCOBepoieHCXBO-
Baxbca, nonpaBjraxbca;
— ment, yjiyquieme,
ycoBepuieHcxBOBanie ,
ycntx-b; with so im-
proving a voracity, ct,
xaKOio yBejiHMHBaio-
meioca ffia/^HOCTbio.
improvisation, HMnpoBH-
3ai^ia.
imprudence, He6jaropa-
syMie, CespascyAcxBO,
imprudent , He6jraropa-
SyMHHIl, HCOCXOpOHt-
Hbifi, 6e3pa3cy3;HbiM.
impudent, HaxajbHbiS.
impulse, no6yffl/i;eHie.
impunity, OesHaKasaH-
HOCTb, HBHaKaaaHHOcxb;
with — , 6e3HaKa3aHHO.
impure, He^wcxHS.
impute, BM'feHaxb, npnnH-
cbiBaxb.
in, B-b, BO (cT. npe;;jtoatH
na«.)> iepe3i>, na; —
copper, M*/^bI0, M*3;Hbi-
MH AeHbraMH; — sum-
mer, ji'fexoM'b; — the
footsteps, no catAaMt;
— time, CO BpeiieHeMi..
inability, HecnocofiHocxb.
inaccessible, nenpHcxyn-
Hbift, He;i;ocTynHbi8.
inadequate, He/i;ocxaxoq-
HblH.
inadvertently, no onjom-
HOCXH.
incalculable, HeHcincjH-
MblS.
incantation, MarniecKoe
H3pe<ieHie.
incapable, HecnocodHwS
Kt leMy.
incapacitate, npasoAnxb
btj HecocxoaHie,Jniiuaxb
BOSMOHtHOCXH.
incapacity, Hecnoco6-
HOCXb,
incense, pasffpaataxb.
inch, AroflMx..
incident, cjryHaS, npn-
KJHOHenie; — to, CBOfi-
CXBeHHblll KOJiy.
incline, Kjonaxbca; — d,
CKJiOHHbifi,pacnojoffleH-
HblS, HaKJIOHHbiS; to
be — d, KjioHHXbca.
include, BKJioiaxb^ sa-
KJiioHaxb BT. cefit.
income, ;^oxo;^'b, eateroA-
HbiM ;i;oxoA'b.
incompetent, He;iocxaxoH-
hh8, HecnocofiHbifij He-
HMtioii:iiS opaBa Hanxo,
HCBJiaCXHblS.
inconsistent, hccobh'^ct-
hhS, Hecoo6pa3HHii.
380 —
inconvenience, HeyAo6-
CTBO.
inconvenient, HeyAoCHBiS.
incorrect, HcnpaBHjibHwfi,
incorruptibly , nenofl-
KynHO.
increase, yBejiHieHie; to — ,
yBejiHiBBaxb, yBejinin-
BaTbCfl, BOSpaCTETb, y-
CHjiMBaxbca.
incredible, HeHMOBtpHbia,
HeBlfepOHTHblS.
inculcate, Bnepaxb^ noA-
TBepffl/i;aTb.
incumbent, HMtioiuiii npa-
xoAt, 6eHe*rim'apiM.
incursion, HaOtrt, nauie-
CTBie.
indebt, ofloaHtaTb; — ed,
OiJOJffieHHblfi H'feM'b.
indecorum , HenpHJii^-
HOCTb, HenpUCTOilHOCTb.
indeed, bt. caiioM'B /i.tit,
;^'fcf^cTBHTeJIbHO.
indefatigable, HeyioMH-
Mwfl.
indefeasible, HeoTHyatAae^
MbiH, HepaspyiDHMbifi.
indent, sySpnTb, sasy-
6pHBaTb.
independence, nesaBncn-
MOCTb.
independent , IlHAenen-
ffeHTi) ; HHAenenneHT-
CKiS, HCSaBHCHMblfi; —
ly, HesaBHCHMo.
indescribable, HeonacM-
BaeMbiM.
India, BOcxoiHaa HHAia;
— n, HHRlbei^'b, HH/i,efl-
CKifl.
indicate, oaHanaxb, no-
KasbiBaxb.
indication, yKasanie, npa-
snaK-b.
Indies, HH^ia; the East— ,
BocxoHHaa HH/^ia; the
West — , Sana^Haa Hh-
indifference, paBHOAymie.
indignantly, cb ncroAo-
naHiein..
indignation, HeroAOBauie.
indignity, ocKopSjieHie,
oSHAa.
indigo, HHAHro, Ey6oBaa
KpacKa.
indiscretion, HepascyAH-
XejIbHOCXb, ODpOMeXHH-
BOCTb, HeCKpOMHOCXb,
60JIX.IHB0CXb.
indiscriminate, eespas-
6opHHBblfi.
indistinctness, HeacHocxb
individual, .l^^o, oco6a;
JtUIKblft, 'laCXHblM, OT-
A^JIbHblfi.
indolent, ji'feHaBbiu, 6e3-
neiBbiM.
indoors, cm. door.
induce, nofiyKAaxb, upi'i-
HIlHaXb, npOHSBOAHXfc.
indulge, yroHJAaxb, ae-
JI'feaXb,IIO.XBOpCXBOBaXb,
DpeAasaxbca leiiy; —
nee, CHHCxoatAenie; —
nt, CHHCXOAHXejIbHblS.
Indus, JlHA-b.
industrious, xpyAOJiio6H-
Bbift, cxapaxe.ibHbiM,
paMHTeabKbiH
industry, paA*Hie, cxa-
paHie,np0jieffiaHie,xpy-
ftOJiio6ie, npoMbiiujieH-
HOCXb.
inelegant , HeusainHwS ,
HeitpacuBbiS.
inestimable, neoi^'feHeH-
Hwfi, 6e3M'fiHHbIH.
inevitable, HewBHyeMbiS.
inevitably, HCJinHyeMo.
inexhaustible, Heacxo-
inexorable, neyMOJtHiuHfi.
inexperience, HeonHx-
Hocxb; — d, HeonHXHHii.
infamous , SesHecxHbig,
nosopHbiB.
infancy, a*tcxbo.
infant, M-iuAenei^T), A^Ta.
infantry, ntxoxa, HH*aH-
xepia.
infatuate, ocitajiaxb, o-
GojTbmaTb.
infect, sapafflaxb.
infer, BUBOAHTb, saKJiio-
qaxb.
inferior, MeHbmifi, xyA-
miS, HHffiHifi, HHSiuiH,
noAHaiaJibHbin, hoaih-
HeHHbiii; to be — , y-
cxynaxb.
infest , o6e3noKOHBaxb,
oiiycxomaxb.
infidel, HCBtpHbiM.
infinitely, GesKOHeqao.
infirmity, Apaxj[ocxb,cjia-
6ocxb.
infiame, EOcn.aaMeHaxb.
inflict, Ha.iiaraxb.
influence, BJiiaHie; to—,
iiMtxb BJiiaaie Ha.
inform, yBtAOUjraxb, H3-
Blbmaxb, HacxaBjiaxb; —
ation, H3B'femeHie, Ha-
CTaBjienie, asBtcxie,
CB'feA'feHia.
infraction, HapymeHie.
ingenious, sauiMcjioBaxfaifij
— ]y, ocxpoyMHO.
ingratitude, aeSjiaroAap-
HOCXb.
inhabit, o6nxaxb; a thin-
ly — ed district, iiajio-
•iiOAHaa cxpaHa; — ant,
o6nxaxejib, jKuxejib.
inherit, nacjitAOBaxb} —
ance, nacjiiACTBO.
inhuman, 6e3iejioBtHHbitt;
— ity, Ses'jejiOB'BHie ,
ffiecxoKOCxb; — ly, 6e3-
lejIOBtlHO.
381 -^
injunction , noBeatHie ,
noftTBep!K;],eHie.
injure, BpcAHTb, noBpejK-
/taxtj ocKop6jiiiTb.
injury, Bpe^^b, noBpeat-
;^eHie , HecnpaBe,'i,Jin-
BocTfc, o6HAa.
injustice, HecnpaBeAJiH-
BOCTb,
inkstand, ^epKHjibHima.
inlist, BepfioEaxb.
inmate, HJHTejib.
inn, rocTHHHHi^a;— keep-
er, coAepataxejb ujih
coAepffiaxejibHHi^a ro-
CXHHHimbl.
innocence, aeBHUHocxb,
6e3BnHHOcxb.
innocent, MjiafteHei^Ti; ae-
BHHOBHLlfi, HeBHHHbiM,
6e3BHHHbIl1 jUpocxoAyui-
Hblll.
innovation, HOBOBBe/i,eHie.
innumerable, OesHucaeH-
HMfi.
inoffensive, 6e3BpeAHbi8.
inoperative, 6e3;i,'bHcxBeH-
HbiS, HefltncxByioiniii.
inquire, HaBifeAwBaxbca,
cnpaBjaxbCH, cnpamii-
Baxb, ii3CJi'fe;i;oBaxb.
inquiry, pacnpoci,, sa-
npocb, Bonpocb, cnpaB-
Ka, H3CJi'fe3,OBaHie.
inroad, Haetn..
insatiable, neaacbixHwH.
inscription, naAnncb.
insect, HacfeKoaioe.
insensibly, HcnpHJiSxHo.
insert, BHtmaxb.
inside, BHyxpn.
insist upon, nacxoAXb Ha
qeiBCB.
insolence, sauociHBocxb,
HaAMeHHOCXb.
insomuch that, xaKi. hto,
BT. xaKofl cxeneHH ixo.
inspect, ocmaxpHBaxb,
CMOxpixb, CBn;;'fexejib-
cxBOBaxb ; — ion, o-
CMOXpt, HaASopi..
inspire, B^bixaxb, BHy-
iiiaxb.
inspirit, o/i,ymeB,iflXb, 0-
Go^paxh.
instalment, onpeA'fejieHie.
instance, npuMtp-B, cjiy-
nafi.
instant, MrHOBenie, mhitj;
nejieAJieHHufijfor an — ,
H-a MHHyxy; in an —
BMiirt; on the — , xox-
Hacf, — ly, Toxiacb,
ceiiiacTb, ciio Jinnyxy.
instead, em^cxo ; — of,
BMtCXO xoio ixo6tj.
instigate, no/i;yinaTb,uo/!;-
cxpeKaxb.
instinctive, hhcxhkxhb-
HblS.
institution, yHpeffi^eHie;
— for education, boc-
HHxaxejibHoe hjih y^ieS-
Hoe 3aBe/i;eHie.
instruct, yiHXb, o6y4axb,
HacxaBJiaxb) — ion, o-
Syyenie, HacxaBJienie,
HaKasi., HHCxpyKii;ia, —
ive, noyinxejibHbiM; —
or, HacTaBHUKt, y4H-
xejb.
instrument, opy^ie, hh-
cxpyMeHXTi; — al, cjiy-
aiamiS opyftieM-b, hh-
cxpyjiCHxajibHbifi ; to
be — al, cjyatiixb opy-
flieikTi.
insubordination, Heno-
SHHOBCHie, Hcnocjiy-
maHie.
insufferably, HecxepoHMo,
HeCHOCHO.
insular, ocxpoBCKoft.
insult, oSH^a, ocKopSjie-
Hie; to — , oSiiffiaxb, o-
CKop6:iaxb ; — ing, o-
CKopSnxejibHbiS.
insupportable , hbchoc-
Huri, HecxepnMMbiB.
insupportably, HecHocao,
HecxepnuMO.
insure, ofiesnequBaxb.
insurgent, HHcypreHxi.,
SyHXCBimiK-b.
insurrection, BOBcxanie,
fiynxt.
integrity, HenopoiHocxb,
HCKpeHHOCXb, qeCXHOCXb,
npaBOAyuiie.
intellect, pasyjii., yin.;
— Ual, yjICXBBHHblS.
intelligence, pasymtHie,
cMbimjeHie, ywcxBCH-
Hbia cnocoSnocxH, cno-
CoSHOCXb MblCJinXb, CBt-
A'fiHie, HSBtcxie, hobo-
CXII, BllftOMOCXb.
intelligent, noHaxjiaBbiu,
yMHHH,
intelligible , Bpasyim-
xejibHbifi, QOHaxHbiS.
intemperate, HeyMtpeH-
Hbiu, HeB033;epffiHbiS.
intend, osHanaxb, naMt-
peBaxbca , HM'fexb na-
Mtpenie, nwfixb hxo
BTj BHAYj BOSHaMtpU-
Baxbca , npeAHasHa-
laxb; — ed, npe^HaM'fi-
peHHbift, ymumjiaeMbift
intense, cHJbHuM, na-
npaateHHbiii.
intent, HaMtpenie; bhh-
MaxejibHbiM ; to be —
on a thing, oSpaxHXb
SoJibuioe BHHMaHie Ha
1X0, saSoxHXbCfl 0 "jeMT);
to be — on the inter-
est of anything, HHxe-
pecoBaxbCfl H't.wb hh-
HBfiyAb; — ion, naM*-
peaie; — ionally,yMbiiii-
— 382 —
JieHHO, HapOIHO, Cb Ha-
MtpeHieMT).
intercede, xo;i;aTaficTBo-
BaTb, npocHTb 0 'jeniT..
intercept^ Mtiuaxb, npe-
Kpamaxb, ocTaHaB^iii-
BRTb, nepexBaTMBaTt.
interdict , sanpemaTt,
BOSopanaTt.
interest, HHxepecb, nojib-
3a, npoij;eHTW, BJiiaHie;
to — , HHTepecoBaxt; to
be — ed, HHxepecoBaTb-
ca; — ing, saHnMarejiii-
HblHj JIIoSonMTHMtijHH-
pecHbifl.
interfere, BM'feniHBaTbCH;
— nee, BM'feiiiHBaHie,
ButmaTCjibCTBO , no-
cpefl;HniecTBO.
interior, HyTpTj.BHyxpeH-
HKa lacxb; BHyxpenHiu.
interment , norpe6eHie,
xopoHeaie.
internal, BHyxpeHHiS.
interpret , TOJiKOBaxb ,
o6i)flCHaxb; — er, nepe-
Bo;^'^HK'I).
interrogation, cnpamn-
BaHie , BonpomeHie ;
note of — , BonpocH--
XejIbHblS SHaKT,.
interrupt, nepepBiB-B, o-
cxaaoBKa; to — , Mife-
raaxb, npepbiBaxb.
intersect, nepectKaxb.
intersperse, ycbinaxb,ne-
peiituiHBaxb.
interval, npojieffiyxoK-b.
intervene , npoxoAHXb
MeHt;^y t^mtj; — iii'^g,
npoMeffiyxoHHbiS.
intervention, nocpeAHu-
HecxBO, sacxynHuieciBO.
interweave with, anjie-
xaxb Bi>.
intimate, aantKaxb;— ly,
KOpOXKO.
intimation, naMeKi., yKa-
saflie.
into, Bt, BO (c-b BHHHX.
na«.).
Intolerable, HecHocHwfi,
HecxepnHMbiS.
intolerably, HecxepoHMo-
intoxicate, HanoHxb ^o
nbana, ynoaxb; — d,
HexpesBbifi, DbaHbiS.
intrenchment , oKom,,
pexpaHmaneHXTj.
intrepid, HeycxpainHMbift;
— ity, HeycxpaiUHMOcxb.
intricate, sanyxaHHbifl.
introduce, BBOAHxb,npe;r-
cxaBJHxb, to — to any
one's aqiiaintance, sna-
KOMHXb CT) KtllTj.
introductory, c^yntamia
BBeji.eHieM'i).
intruder, HesBaHHHil
rocxb.
intrusion, Hcyjii&cxHMfi
bxoj{Td , Bxo;^'B des-b
nosBOJieHia.
intrust, BB*paxb.
inundation, HaBOAHenie.
invade, HacHJibHo oBJia-
ftixb, Hana^axb, Bxop-
raxbca; — r, saBJia/i;*-
xejib, Hanaflaxejib,
invalid, HHBajrn/i;^.
invaluable, HeoA^HeKHMH:,
invariable, HeasMtHHwii;
— bly, HeusBitHHO.
invasion, HaStri), Bxop-
ffienie.
invective , noHomeHie,
6paHb.
invent, HsoSptxaxb, bu-
;^yMbIBaxb; — ion, nso-
dptxenie; — ive, hso-
eptxaxcibBMil.
Inverness-shire, rpatcxso
IlHBepHecij.
investigation , mcA'^Ao-
Baaie.
invincible, HenoStAHMafi,
nenpeoROJiHMbiS.
inviolable, HBHapyniHMHfi.
inviolate , HenpnKocHo-
EeHHbifi, HeHapyiuHMbiS,
invisible, HeBH;iHMbifi.
invitation, nparjiamcHie.
invite, npnrjiamaxb, npH-
BjeKaxb.
inviting, npHBJieKaxejib-
Hbiu; — ly, npHBJicKa-
XeJTbHO.
involuntary, HeBOJibHtift.
involve, BOBjieKaxb, 3a-
nyxbiBaxb.
Ireland, HpjiaH;i;ia.
Irish, I'IpjraH;^CKiS, the — ,
Hpj[aH;i;i;bi ; — man,
B[pjiaHseni>.
iron, Htojtso; HcejitsHbifl.
irregular , nenpaBHjib-
HbiS, fiesnopa^oHHMB,
fieSHIIHHblS.
irremediable, HeacnpaBn-
Mbiit.
irresistible, neosojiHMbifi,
Henpeo/i;ojiHMHM, aeno-
6'£AHMbia.
irresolute, aeptmnxajb-
ao; as if — , KaKt 6yA-
xo K0Jie6aacb.
irritable, pas/^pasKaxejib-
Bbiii.
irritation, paSApaseaie;
in a tone of — , pas-
ApaffieHBHM'b roJiocoM'b.
is, ecxb; CM. be.
Isaac, HcaaKi.
island, ocxpoBi>; — er^
ocxpoBnxaHBB'i.
isle, ocxpoBT>; — t, oc-
XpOBOKT).
issue , nOXOMCXBO , HC-
xo^Tb, KOHei;'i>, nocji'feA-
cxBie, peayjibxaxt, pas-
Aaia; to — , asffaBaxb,
BWxoAHXb, (oxflaBaxfa
npHEasT)).
383 —
isthmus, nepemeeKt.
it, OHO, 9T0, — was, 6m-
Jioj of — , ero,
Italian, HxajiiflHei^t.;
HTajiiflHCKitt.
Italy, HxajiH.
its, OHaro, ero.
it's, CM. it is.
itself, OHO caMO, cano,
ccSk, caMaro ccSh; in
— , caMO no ceS*.
I've, CM. I have,
ivory, cjioHOBaa KocTb.
J.
Jack, HfiaHTj.
jacket, KypTKa; to get a
wet — , npoMOKaxt;
— pocket , KapMaH-B
KypxKH.
jagnar, aryapij, anepH-
KancKiM THrp-i.
jail, TiopbMaj — or, TH)-
peMlUHKI..
Jamaica, Slua^sa,
James, Skobi,.
Jane, loaHna, AHHa.
Janissary, HHWHapTj.
jasper, auiMa.
jaw, nacTb, sifeBt.
jealous, peBHHBbiH ; to
be — of the success of,
saBH/^ofeaxb KOMy bi,
yuan*; — y, peBHOcxb,
■peBHHBOCXb, peBHO-
BaHie.
jeer, nacMtuiKa, HSjiitB"
Kaj to — , nacM'fexaxbca
HaUt K'feM'Ii.
jeopardy, onacnocxb,
Jeremy, lepcMia.
jerk, flepraxb, noxpacaxb
jest, ffiyxKa.
Jesuit, iesyHT-b,
Jesus, lacycTb.
jet black, lepHbiS Kani)
CMOJIb.
Jew, JKha-b.
jewel, Rparoii.'feHHbiM Ka-
Menb; — office, xpann-
jHme ^ocy/^apcxBeH-
HbixTb /i.parOM'lJHHOcxeS.
jib, KJinBept; down — ,
KJiBBepi) /i;oJiofi! np — ,
KjiHBcp'b noRHnMafl!
Joan, loaHHa.
job, AiJto, pafioxa.
jog, xojKaxb , nnxaxb;
to — on, noffBHrHBaibca.
John, HBaHTj.
join, coe^HHaxb, npHCoe-
^HHaxb, coe;;HHaxbca,
npncoeftHHaxbca KTb; to
— company, npacoe-
ji^vmnTbCH ktj KOMy; to
— in, ynacxBOBaTb btj;
the procession was —
ed, Kt npoi],ecciH npn-
coe/i;HHHJica.
joke, niyxKa.
jollity, BGcejiocxb, 3a-
6aBH0cxb, Becejbe, no-
Ttxa.
jolt, nepeBajiHBaTbca; to
— on, 6'tmarb nepeBaaa-
Baacb.
Jonathan, Borsam,.
Joseph, IocH4>'b, OcHnij.
Josiah, locia.
journal, AHeEHHRt, wyp-
HajiTj.
journey, uyxeuiecxBie (6e
peroM-b), nyxb; a day's
— , 3;eHb 'b3/i;bi.
joust, just, 6ofi Ha
Konbax-b, xypKHpi..
joy, paftocxb; — aunce,
Becej[Ocxb, Beceaie; —
ful, — ous, pa/i;ocxHbifi;
—fully, pa;^ocxHO.
jubilee, loSajieS.
judge, cy/^ba, SHaxOKt;
to' — , cy3;Hxb, homh-
xaxb; to — safest, sa-
6jiaropa3cy/i;HXb.
judgment, cy/i,!., cyaRe-
Hie, HaitasaHie, nparo-
Bopij, pl5nieHie.
judicial, cyAeSauK.
juice, coicB.
Julius, lOjiifi,
July^ Iiojib; iiojibCiciM. '
jump , npHm-eKT. , CKa-
MCKT.; to give a — ,
CKaKHyxb; to — , npw-
raxb, CKaKaxb; to —
down, cocKaKHBaxb; to
— ont, BbiCKaKHBaxb;
to — overboard, 6po-
caxbca 3a Sopx-b.
junction, coesHHeHle.
June, IioHb.
juniper, Moai-.KeBejiOBbiM.
jurisdiction, cy/i,e6Hoe
B^AOMCXBO.
jury, cyftt npHcaatHbix'B,
npncaffiHbie; —of accu-
sation, grand — , o6-
BHHHTejibHaa najaxa.
just, CM. joust.
just, cnpaBCflJiHBbiS, npa-
Be/i;HblS, B'fipHblH, T01-
Hbifij coBeptueHHOjToq-
HO, JIHUIb XOJIbKO, TOJb-
KO HXO, XOJIbKO ]S,J1K
xoro iTofibi; — as, —
when, B-b xo caMoe
BpeMa Kor^a; —by my
seat , noAJt canaro
Moero Mtcxa; — ice,
npaBOcyftie , cnpaBes-
jiHBOCxb, cyftbaj to do
— ice, ox/i,aBaxb cnpa-
BBftJiHBOCxb; — ice of
the peace , MHpoBoS
cy^ba; ~ ly, cnpaBeA-
jiHBO , — ness , TOH-
Hocxb, cnpaBeAJiHBOCXb.
Jutland, lOxaaHAifl.
384> —
R.
keel, KHjii,.
keen, ocTpbiH, npoHHi];a-
TejEHHli.
keep, Rep/EaTb , cosep-
acaTb , ^po;^epffiHBaTb,
y/^ep5KHBaTb , co5jiio-
;i;aTb, coxpanaTb, npo-
;^0Ji5KaTB, aepiKaTbCH,
ocxasaTbCH; to — a day,
C05.1I0CTII CpOICb, HBHTb-
Cfl Bt cpoKt; to — a
good look-out, xopo-
meHbKO KapayjiHTb: to
— any one out of
sight, ycTpanHTb Koro;
to — from, samnmaTb;
to — in check, ocxa-
HaBjinBaxb , npenax-
CTBOBaxb 5 to — in-
formed of what was
passing , flocTaBjraTb
H3B'£CTiH 0 BCCMIj HTO
npoHcxo;];HJO; to — in
good repair, co/^ep-
JKaxb B-b xopomeMTj CO-
cxOHHiH; to — out, He
snycKaxb; to — pace,
1I;^XH HapaBHt ct vfeM-b,
He oxcxaBaxb oxt koto;
to — secret, coxpanaxb
btd xauH-fe; to — sheep,
nacxH OBei^T.; to — up,
HOAAepJKUBaxb; to —
upon one's guard, o-
cxeperaxbCH ; I have
kept you up, asa^iep-
HtajiTj BacT jiowHXbca
cnaxb; never — ing in
mind, majio /^ymas; —
er, xpaHHxejib, cxo-
pOffi'L, CMOXpHXeJIb.
kelson, KHJibcoHx..
Kentish, KCKxcKiS.
kept, CM. keep,
kerchief, rojioBHoti ySop-B,
njiaxoKTb.
kernel, sepno.
key, Kjnoib, KJiaBHiiit.
kick, nnHOKt, y/iiapTb ho-
roio) to — off, ciuHoaxb,
cxajiKiiBaxb.
kidmudgar , cjiyra (Bt
rin/tiH).
kill, y6iiBaTb.
kilt, KopoxKaa looica (y
IIIoxjiaH/i;i];eBT3).
kin, p0;(CXB0, CBOilCXBO.
kind, poAij, copx^.; ro-
6pbiS, jiacKOBbiH; —
hearted, /i;o6po/i;ymHbiS,
So6pocepp;eHHbiii, pa-
jiymHbiil; — ly, fijiaro-
CKJIOHHwii, JiaCKOBblfl,
KpoxKift, RoSpbiil, 6jia-
rocKJiOHHO, jiacKOBo; —
ness, floSpoxa.
kindle, BosHturaxb, boc-
najiaxb, pasropaxbca;
to — up, sasKHraxb.
king, Kopojib ; — dom ,
Kopo^ieBcxBoj — ly, ko-
poJieBCKiH ; — maker,
fltJiaxejib KopoJieS.
kinsman, po^cxBeHHHKX).
kiss, u.tJiOBaxb.
kitchen, Kyxna.
kite, GyMajKHbiu SMlifi.
knave, njiyxTb.
knavish, njiyxoBaxwii.
knee, koji^ho.
kneel down, cTaHOBHxbca
Ha KOJltHH.
knell, KOjioKojibHbiM sboht.
no yurepmeMt.
knew, CM. know,
knife, ho/k-b, HoasuKi..
knight, pwD,apb, KaBa-
jiepii; to — , nocBamaxb
btj pbmapn; — hood,
pwu;apcxBO.
knit, BH3axb.
knock, cxyitTj; to — , cxy-
HaxbCH ; to — back-
wards, cuinSaxb 'na-
s&jniy- to — down, no- iM
BajiHxb Koro HascMb}
— ing, cxyianie, cxy-
KOXHH.
knot, ysejit, Kyia, xojina.
know, 3Haxb, ysHaBaxb;
to — any one from,
pasjtHHaxb , oxjiHqaxb
ox-b; — ledge, SHame,
nosnaHie , CBta^nie ;
without his — ledge,
Bes-b ero Bi^oMa; —
ledge of the world,
SHanie CBlixa, yii'feHie
aJHXb Bt CBtX'fe.
known, nsBtcxRHS; cm.
xaKffie know.
L.
label, ep^biK-b; to — , HH-
caxb njiH npiiBasbiBaxb
epjibiK-B.
labor, CM. labour;— ious,
xpy;];ojiio5nBbii1, mho-
roxpyaHbiS; — iously,
xmaxejibHO.
labour, xpy^-b, pa6oxa;
to — , pa6oxaxb, xpy-
;i;nxbca ; — er, paSox-
hhktj, noffeHmnK'b,
lace, KpyjKeBO.
lacerate, nspbiBaxb, pas-
^npaxb.
lack, He/^ocxaxoK^. ; — ,
good — , yBbi!
laconic, jiaKOHniecKift.
lad, MOJIo;^ou MejioB'feK'b,
napeHb, MO-ioaHiiKT.,
ladder, JitcxHima; — ma-
chine, jiicxHnHHaa Ma-
mnna.
lade, Harpyfflaxb.
laden, cm. lade.
lady^ ftaMa, rocnO/Ea, Jie-
/;h {xnxyjn> cynpyr-b
— 385
JiHi;t Bucniaro ffBopnH-
CTBa), cynpyra.
lag, OTCxaBaxb, MtujitaTb.
laid, CM. lay; to be — on
a bed of sickness, caem>
Ha OAp-b GojIIishh^ 3a-
HeaiOHb.
lain, CM. lie.
lake, osepo.
lamb, HrHCHOKt, arneij.'B.
lame, yBtynBiH, xpoMofi ;
to — , /^'£JIaTb xpo-
Mtawb.
lament, onjraKHBaxb, co-
ataji'fiTb 0 HCMi.; — able,
nJtaHeBHbiu,!Ka.!rKii'i,co-
HtaJiiHia ROCTOHHbiM.
lamp, JiaMna, JiaMna/i;a.
lampoon, pyrare^bHoe co-
HiiHenie, nacKBHJb.
Lancastrian , npHBepHse-
Hei;!) ffOMa ./laHicacTep-
CKaroj JlaHKacTepcKiM.
lance, Koribe, naKa.
land, seMJia, no4Ba, cxpa-
Ha, noMtcTbe, Sepert;
6eperoBoi1; to — , npn-
cxaBBTb ktj Sepery, bu-
xoftHTb Ha Seper-b, bw
casKHBaxb Ha Oepert;
— ed propei'ty, no-
M-BCTbe
ne;i,BHatHMoe
HMtBie; — holder, no-
wfimiiK-b; — ing, npH-
cTaBanie kij Sepery; —
lord, xosnnm., coAep-
JKaxejib rocxHHHHUbi; —
scape, JiaHftmac'T'Ljneil-
saffiT,.
lane, nepeyjiOK'B.
language^ hshki., ptib,
cjorxaj every day — ,
OOHKHOBCHKblii H3bIKT>.
languid , cjiaGuu ; to
make — , nsnypaxb.
lantern, ^onapb
lap, KOJI'kHH.
lapis lazuli, jiasypeBbift
itaMeHb.
Laplander, A&asa,nji,cii,'b.
lapse, HCxeueHie , npo-
)iiccTBie.
larboad , jii5BaH cxopona
(Kopa6ji)i).
large, 6ojliiiou, BejuitiM;
at — , Ha BOJi'b, Ha cbo-
So^'fe, BooSme, bt. co-
BOKynHocxHj — ly, sna-
inxejibHO, me^po, Bt
HsSbiTKt, btj H3o6njia;
to enlist — ly, Bep6o-
BaXb BTj SOJUbUIOMT) HH-
CJtt.
lash, y;i;ap'b; to — , xjie-
cxaxb, npiiHailxoBHXb.
lass, fftBKa, RtBHu.a.
last, nocjitflHifi pasT.; —
night , BMepa Bene-
poMi.; nocji'bf^ai^i- at — ,
naitOHei^'b; to the — ,
AO KpawHOCTH; the —
instance, KpaSflifi cjiy-
qafi; to — , npoROJiffiaxb-
Cff, fl,epffiaxbCfl; — ing,
npo;iOJrH!iixejrbHbifi, no-
cxoaHHbiil; — ly, HaKO-
Hei^'b.B'b saKjnoieaiej —
named, nocjI&AHeyno-
MHHyxbifi , nocji't;i,Heno-
HMeHOBaHHblfl.
late, nosAHiil, He^aBHiil,
noKOMHbifi , CbiBiuifi ;
nosRHO , HGAaBHO ; to
be — , oua3;!;biBaxb; —
ly, of — . He^aBHO.
Latin, JraxpiHCKifi j]3biKT);
jraTMHcinu.
latitudinarianism, bojib-
HOAyMCXBO.
latter, nocjr*/i;Hifi; — ly,
btj nocjili/^Hee BpcMfl.
laudable, noxBajibribifi.
laugh, CMfeXTiJ to — CM*-
axbcaj to— at, CMtaxb-
cfl Ha;^'b, HacMixaxbCii}
— able, CMtajHoM; —
er, nacM'hniHHKTj; — ter
CMliXX,.
launch, 5apKa3%; to — ,
cnycKaxb cy^HO na Bo;ty.
laureate, yB-bHHaHHbiii cxn-
XOXBOpei^t, IipHflBOp-
Hbifi cxnxoxBopei;^.
laurels, jiaBpw.
lavender, jtaBeH^a,
lavish, pacTOiaxb, npo-
MaxbiBaxb.
law, saKOHt, npaBOBtfl'fe-
Hie; — ful, 3aK0HHbiMj
— less, OessaKOHHbiM,
Heo5y3/i,aHHbiii; — yer,
3aK0H0Bt/^e^■b, aABO-
itaxTa.
lawn, JiiiHo, noKpwBajio,
lay, KJiacxb, nojiOffiHXb,
cxaBiixb; CM. xaKa;e lie;
to — an ambuscade,
CA'fij[axb saca^y; to —
at the feet, noBcpraxb
K-b cxonaMT,; to — be-
fore any one, npe^-
cxaBJiaxb icoMyj to —
before the king, npe^-
cxaBJiHTb Kopojiio, no-
Bepraxb Ha B033p'6Hie
Kopojia; to — by, coxpa-
HflXb; to — down, noja-
raxb, JiO/KHxbca, cjia-
raxb CT) ceSa; to —
down one's arms ,
Kjacxb, nojiojKuxb opy-
5Kie, CAaBaxbCflj to —
down one's head, jso-
ajHXbCfl cnaxb; to —
down one's life, nojio-
jKHXb JKUBoxi); to — liold
of, saxBaxBiBaxb; to —
in the churchyard,
npeAaBHTh xl5Jio seMjcfe;
to — off, /i,epa?axb oxt
6epera npoib; to — on
the back, Baajinxb E-b
CHBHy; to — up, HaKO-
49
386 —
DJflTb; to — upon, Ha-
jiaraTb ; to — waste,
onycTomaTb.
layman, MipHHHHt, cb^t-
CKiS HeJIOBtKI).
laziness, jitHb.
lazy, ji^HHEbift.
lead, — ership, npe/i;BO-
ftHXejIbCTBO; to ~, BO-
ftHTb, BCCTH, nyTeBO-
;^(iTb,pyK0B0AHTb, npeR-
BO^HXejIbCTBOBaTb, DO-
GyffiAaTb; to — out, bh-
BOftHTb; to — through,
npoxoAHTb no; to — to,
ROBORHTb p;0 HQTO, HO-
BecTii K-b neny, npuBO-
RHTb, HaBOflHTb Ha HTOJ
— er, nepeAOBofi,npe;i;-
BOftHTeJIb, BOHCftb, Ha-
HaJIbHHK'b.
lead, CBHHei^t J — en,
CBHHi;OBblfi.
leaf, jihcttj.
league,JiHra (5,208 BepcT^b),
corosT..
leak, — age, Te^b; — y,
CTj TeibH).
lean,_Jio6oBHHa; xyflofi,
xyftomaBbifi; to — , npn-
CJIOHaTbCfl, CKJIOHHTbCa.
leap, CKOneKT), npbmeit'b}
to — , CKaKaxb, npbi-
raTb) to — in, BupwrH-
Batbj to — on, BCKaKH-
Baxb Ha; to - out, bw-
CKaKHBaTb; to — over,
nepecKaKHBaTb,
leapt, CM. leap-
learn, y4Hrb, y4HTbCH,
cjibiuiarb 0 leMT., ysna-
Baxb , HaynaxbCH ; —
ed, yqeHbift; — ing, y-
leaie, HsyHenie, yie-
HOCXb.
least, MajitttuiiHl MeHb-
me; at—, no KpafiHeS
u-bpt ; in the — , hr
jiajro; not the ^, hh-
CKOJIbKO.
leather, Koaaj — n, ko-
HCaHblfi.
leave, nosBOJienie; — of
absence, oxnycicb.; to — ,
ocxaBJiflXb , noKHftaxb ,
saB^maxb, oxitasbiBaxb
no AyxoBHofi; to — be-
hind, ocxaBJiHXb AOMa;
to — off, nepecxasaxb;
to — out, npoiiycEaxb;
to — to, npeftocxaBJiaxb ;
he had just left, ohtj
XOJIbKO MTO Bbmiejit
oxTb Hero.
leavened, KBameHbiii.
lecture, JieKU,ia, Bbiro-
Bop-b; to read any one
a — , fltiiaxb KOMy bu-
roBopij.
led, CM. lead.
lee, noffBtxpeHHaa cxo-
poHa; noABirpeHKbifi.
left, Jt'fiBaa cxopoHa; — ,
— hand, jiiBbiii; to the
— jHajitBOj CM. xaKffle
leave.
leg, Hora, rojiCHb, saflHaa
Hacxb (Horn); — of mut-
ton, saAHHH qeiBepxb
6apaHHHbi.
legal, saKOHHBifi, yaaKO-
HCHKblfi; — ity, 3aK0H-
HOCXb.
legate, JieraxT>, nancKifi
nocoJiTj.
legatee , yiacTHHKi. btj
saBtu^aHiH.
legible, nexKiii; it is
scarcely — , axo cb xpy-
AOmtj MOfflHO uponecxb.
legion, JierioHT,.
legislation, saKOHOAaxejib-
CXBO.
legislature, saKOHOAarejib-
Haa BJiacxb.
legitimate, saKOHuuM.
leisure, Aocyn,, cbo6or-
Hoe BpeMH) — ly, ncno-
AOBOJib, noxHXOHbKy.
lemon, jiHMOH'b.
lend, OAOJiHtaxb, ccyaiaTb
HtM^, AaBaxb.
length, A^inHa, pascxoii-
Hie , npoAOJHiHxejib-
Hocxb; in the course
of a great — of time,
B-B xeqenie Becbua upo-
AOJiffiHxejibHaro BpcMe-
wennj at — , HaKoneuii;
to — en, cxaHOBHXbCH
ftOJibiue, npnSaBJiHxb,
ysejiHqnBaTb.
Lent, nocx'b.
lent, CM. lend.
Leo, >IIeBi>.
leopard, jreonapsTj; Jieo-
napAOBbifl.
less, MeHbEue, MeHte, MCHb-
miii; — er, MeHbuuifi.
lesson, ypoK-bj noyycHie.
lest, A^Sbi He, Hxo6bi He.
let, nycKaxb, nosBOJiflXb,
AaBaxb, OTAasaxb bi.
Ha&MH; — me hear the
irregular verbs, CKa-
ffiHxe MHi nenpaBHjib-
Hbie raarojibi; — us see,
nocMoxpHM'b} — us sup-
pose, npe;inojiofflHMT3;
to — any one go, ot-
nycxnxb Koro; to — fly,
nycKaxb, 6pocaTb; to
— go, BbinycKaTb (nat
pyK-b), oxftaBaxb; to —
into, BnycKaxb, coo6-
maxb; to — out, Bbiny-
CKaXb.
lethargy, coHnaa HeMonb,
jiexapria.
let's, CM. let us.
letter, nncbMO, SyKea; a
man of — s, yHCHbiii;
— s patent, HtajiOBaH-
Haa rpawoxa, naxenxt.
— 387 —
levee, bwxoai..
level, ypoBGHh; poBHwB,
rjiaAKitt; to — , pa3o
pari, fio ocHOsaHiH.
leVite, JICBIlT'b, BCTX03a-
BtxHuii CBHmeHHOCjry-
HSHTCJIb.
levy, Ha6npaTb, B3HMaTb
(noflaTb).
Lewis, JiOAOHnKt.
to be liable, noAJieatarb,
6biTb noABeprHyTbiM-b.
liar, jiryHii, JiHtei^T..
liberal, cbo6oaho mhcjh-
mifi, jinOepajibHbifi; —
ity, BejiHKOAymie, me-
RpocTb, 6jiaropoACTBO ;
— ly, mcApo.
liberate, oBo5offiAaTb.
liberty, csofioAa; — ties,
npaBa, npenMymecTBa.
library, GHfijiioTeKa.
license, cBo6oAaj nosBo-
JieHie.
licensing, act, cm. act-
licentioas, pacnyxHUH,
pasBpaTHbiS; — nees,
CBoeBOJibCTBO, pacnyx-
CXBO.
lick, JiHsaxbj JiOKaxb.
lie, Jieataxb, JiojKHXbCH,
cxoaxb , HaxoAHXbca ,
HtHxeJbcxBOBaxb) to —
down, jioHtHXbca; to —
in jailjCnA'^Tb btj xiopb-
Mt) to — in state, Jie-
jKaxb Ha napaAHOMTj
OAp* 3 to — in wait,
6uxb HJH /(epffiaxbca
B-b sacaA*; to — over,
jioffiaxbca Ha Coktb; it
lay heavy on his heart,
CMy 6biJio xaatejo Ha
cepRi;*.
liege, BepxoBHbifi; — or —
lord, rncyAapbj — man,
Baccaji-b, rojiAOBHnK'b,
JieHHHK'b.
lieutenancy, HaMtcxHH-
necxBO (rpa*cxBa).
lieutenant, jeMxenaHXTj,
sapajKaxcjib (y opyftia);
— general, rcnepaji'b-
jiefixeHaHx-b.
life, 3KH3Hb, JKHBHeOUHCa-
Hie; the hook of — ,
KHiira ffiiiBOxa; — less,
6e3»H3HeHHbifi,iHepxBufi,
lift, noRHHwaxb, npiinoA-
HHiiaxb) to — up one's
voice, BOSBbiiuaxb ro-
JOCt.
light, CBtX-BjCBtia, CBtM-
Ka; CBlfexjibiS, JierKiM,
HesHaiHxejibHbiM, ne-
BaffiHbiM, MajiOBajKHbiii;
the father of — s, oxen.'b
Bcah-aro npocBtmenia;
to — , saffiHraxb, 3acB'fe-
qaxfc, ocBtinaxb, saKy-
pHBaxb, cjitsaxb, cxo-
AHXb; to — on, naxw-
Kaxbca Ha ixo; to —
up, BcnbixHBaxb ; —
blue, roJiy6oft i^B'bx'b;
— green, CBtxJ03ejie-
Hbifi i^Btxii; — ly, Jier-
KO, cjierEa; — uing,
MOJinia;
lighter, njiauiKoyx'bj sax-
xep-B.
like, noAo6HbiH,noxoffiifi;
hoaoSho; to — , JiioSaxb,
HpaBHxbca; he vs'ould
— to, eiay 6bi xoxlbjiocb,
OH-b oxoxHO 6bi; how
do you — , KaK-b Bawb
HpaBHxca? — ness, cxoA
cxBO, nofloOie, H3o6pa-
ffieaie, nopxpcxi.; —
wise, TaKHte.
likely, BtpoaxHwA; b*-
poaxHo; if he is — to
be late, ecjia Btpoax-
HO,ixo OH-B onosAaex-b;
is — to mislead, jrerKO
WOffiCXT. BBeCXH Bt 3a-
6jiy)KAeHie; the work
most — to prove, co-
^HHenie, Koxopoe no
BceS BtpoaxHOcxH OKa-
Htexca.
liking, oxoxa; to take
a — , noji!o6nxb, saxo-
Tixb, noHpaBHxbca.
lily, JiHJiia.
limb, ^Jiewh.
lime, ii3Becxb, H3BecxKa,
uxHHiM KJieii.
limit, rpaHHua, npcA'feJi'B;
to — , orpaHHiHBaxb.
line, cxpoKa, cxpoHKa,
JiiiHia, jiHHia poAcxBa,
noKO.i'feHie ; to — , 3a-
cxaHaBJTHBaxb; — of life,
poA'b 5KH3HH, SBanie; —
of road, xpaKx-Bj — al,
poAOBofi, noKOjrlbHHbiH.
linen, nojroxHO; nojioxHa-
HHil; — draper, xoji-
n^eHHHK-B, xopryron^itt
UOJIOXHOMTj.
linger, MeAJiHXb,Mi6iiiKaxb.
link, 3BeH0, csaab.
lion, JieB-b; — hearted,
jibBHHoe cepAite."
lip, ry6a.
liquor, KHAKocxb, Hann-
XOK-b.
lisp, Jienexaxb.
list, cancoKT,, nonpnme,
apena; to enter the — s,
CM. enter; to — , xo-
xixb.
listen, BHHMaxb,cjyniaTb,
npHCJiyniHBaxbca; — er,
cjymaxejib.
lit, CM. light,
literally, eyicBajibHo.
literary, cjioBecHbiS, na-
xepaxypHbiS, y4eHbiH;
a — man, JiHxepaxop'b.
literati, Jinxepaxopbi.
— 388
literature, cjroBecHocxb,
jiHTepaTypa.
litter, HOCHJiKH, 6e3nopH-
ROH-b, nOMeTTj.
little, Majibift, MaJieBbKiii;
Majio, HeMHoro; a — ,
HeilHOrO.HeMHOiKKOjH'b-
CKOJbKo; by — and — ,
Majo no Majiy; not a—,
He siajio; after a — re-
flection, nocji'S HtKO-
Toparo cooSpameriiH
Atja.
liturgy, JiHTypria, ^ep-
KOBHafl HJiH 6oacecTBCH-
Haa cjiyat6a, nopaAOKt
SorocjiyjEeHia.
live, iKHTb, AO/KHBaTb; tO
— on any thing, nii-
xaTbca HtM-b; long — ,
AB sapaBCTByeTi) ! —
lihood, nponHTanie; —
ly, BBcejiMU, ffinBoS.
Liverpool , JInBepnyjib ;
JiHBepnyjbCKiri.
livery, jnBpea.
living, ffiHSHb, nponiixa-
Hie, 3,yxoBHoe Jitcxo;
atHBofi; to be — , HtHxb;
more than any per-
son — , Sojibuie BCtxTj
JiiOAeii Ha CBfext.
'llwill.
lo, Box-b! CMOxpa!
load, BOSt, KJaAb, XH'
Htecxb; to — , HaKjaAbi-
Baxb, Harpyffiaxb, aa-
pajKaxb, OAapaxb h^mt.;
— ed, oSpeueHeHHWil
CBBHueMtj the — ing,
HBrpyaKa.
loaf, ucfejibiS xj^et.
lobster, MopcKofi paK-B.
local, MtCXHblil.
lock, JOKOH-b; to — up,
saMbiKaxb, aaniipaxb.
locomotion, ABHa^eaie c-b
ul^cxa Ba u-JbcTO.
lodge, ffinxb, cxoflTb, no-
Jitmaxb.
lodging, noMtmenie. npn-
cxannme, KBapxupa;
a night's — , hoh-
Jieri..
lofty, BblCOKiS, BOSBH-
meHHbiu.
lOgjHypSaHt, nenb, 6peB-
ho; — house, SpeaeH-
laxoe cxpoenie.
logic, JornKa.
London, JIoHAOH'b; Joh-
ftOHCKifi; — er, atmejib
^OHAona.
lone, yesnHeHHbifi, oau-
HOidil; — ly, ye^HHeH-
Hbiil, rjiyxoS.
long, AOJirin, npoflO.i/KH-
XCJIbHwii , flJIHHHblM ,
RajibHifi; A-iHHOK), AOJiro,
AOJiroe BpejiH, a^bho.
btj npoAO.iJKenie; as —
as, so — as, iioKa, ao-
KOJitvAaate ao; before — ,
BCKop* uocjit xoro; —
drawn, upoTflffiHbiil; no
— er. He ftojite, He
Sojte.
longing, cxpacxHoe a;e-
.aanie Hero-Jin6o; jKCJia-
lomiii, npHxcxjnBbiii.
Longshanks,AJinHHOHoriu,
AOJiroHorifl,
look, B3opT>, BSrJHA'b,
BUAt;- — out, BbicMaxpH-
BaHie; to be on the —
out, BriepeAXj CMOxptxt;
to keep a good — out,
xopomeHbKO Kapayjnxb
to — ,r.iHA'£xb,cjiOTp'fexb,
Hwfixb bhatj, Kasaxbca;
to — about, to— around,
orjiHAbiBaxbCH , ociia-
xpHBaxbca; to— at, cmo-
xptxb Ha, btj ; to —
down, CMOXpiXb HJTH
rjiflA^xb BHoa-bj hh3-
aplfexb; to — for, HCKaxb;
to — into, aarjHAHBaxb;
to — on, CMOxptxb, rjiH-
Atxb; to — round, orja-
AbisaxbCHj to— to, rjfl»
Atxb Ha; to — up to,
BsrjiaAbiBaxb na.
loom, XKaJIbHblH CXaHOKTi,
ItpOCHM.
loop, nexjifl.
loose, cjia6Kifl, cjia6bifi,
OTBflSaHHhlfi, CB060A-
HbiH, maxKift, HecBaa-
Hbi8, pacnyxHwiijto — n,
pasBaswBaxb; to let — ,
oxBflSbiBaxb; to run — ,
Straxb Ha cboSoaIj.
Lord, FocnoAb, BJiaAbiKa,
B.iaA*xejib, JIopAi: (th-
xyjii) jiHH.'b BHcmaro
ABopaHCxaa); — Cham-
berlain, oSep-b-rosMCJi-
cxepi.; — Keeper of
the Privy Seal, — Privy
Seal, XpaHiixejib rocy-
AapcTBeHHofi nenaxn; —
]y rank, BbicoKiii caa-b;
— ship, CiaxejbCTBO.
lose, noxepaxb, xepaxbca;
to— one's way, 3a6jy-
AHXbCH, cSnxbCfl ziy ao-
poru; to— sight of, no-
xepaxb na-b BHAy; my
watch — s, MOH lacM
OXOXaiOT'b.
loss, noxepa, norn6ejibj
to be at a — , 6bixb bt.
HCAoyM'tHiH, He snaxb.
lost, CM. lose; to be — ,
nornfiaxb.
loud, rpoMKiS, rpoMKo; —
ly, rpoMKo; — pouring,
6ymyiomifi.
Louis, JIioaobhkt..
lounge about, npasAHo
maxaxbca, mjaxbca.
love, JiH)6oBb; — of plea-
sure, ataatAa yAOBOJb-
— 389 —
CTBiM; — of power, BJia-
CTOJiio6ie , jiio6oHa4a-
Jiie; to — , jiioSHTt; —
ly, MHjibjHj — r, JI1060B-
HHRt.
loving, JiacKOBbiM; — ly,
JiaCKOBO, yMHJItHO.
low, HH3KiS, HnSMeHHMS,
THxiS; H03Ko; the fire
is very — , oroHb eflsa
ropHTTb; — er, HHHtHifl,
HHSuiifi, HHHte; to — er,
noHHHtaTb, cnycKaTb,
CHUMaTb; — land, hh3-
MeHHoe MtCTO; — land
bonnet, luanKa yno-
TpeSjiHCMaa oSHxaTCJifl-
MH HH3M. MtCTT,;
lander, sHTejib hjh 0-
6nTaTejIb HHSIUeHHblX'b
MtcTTj; — ness, hh3-
KOCTb.
loyal, BtpHblfl, nOCTOHH-
hmh; — ly, BtpHo; —
ty, BtpHOCTb.
lucid, cBiiTJibiS.
luckjyAaHa^cMacTie; ill — ,
HeyAaqa, necHacTie; —
less, Hey;^a'^HM8, ne-
ciacTHbiS , HecqacTJiii-
BbiSj — y, ciacTJinBwS,
yAaqnafi,
lucrative, npH6bi.ibHbii1,
AOXO/^HbIH.
luggage, noKJiajKa, 6a-
raatT).
lull, iMTHab, saTHuibe,
lumbering, TacKanie.
lung, JierKoe.
lustre, ejiecKt.
Luther, jJioTcp-B.
luxurious, pocKouiHbifi,
nwuiHbifi; — ly, poc-
KOniHO, nbiuiHO.
luxury, pocKoiub.
lying, Jioajb.
machine, uaiuHHa; — ry,
MaUlHHW, MexaHHSM-b,
ycTpoMcTBO.
mad, cyMaciiie;;nii8, 6*-
lueHbiM;— man, cyMa-
craeAuiiM, SesyMeA-b.
MadamiMuflaMij^rocnoffia,
CyflapbiHH.
made, cm. to make-
Madeira, Ma^epa.
magazine, anSapi., mara-
SHHT).
magic, Marifl, B0Juie6-
CTBo; — ian, MarnKt,
napoA*!!} — ian's wand,
MarHiecKiS hjih boji-
lueSHbifi Htesji'i..
magistrate, naiajibcBBeH-
Hoe jiHi],e5 cy^bH.
Magna Charta, BejiBKaa
xapTia (anrjiificKaa).
magnanimity, BejiiiKo;iy-
niie.
magnificence, ubimuocTb
EejiHKOJi'fenie, pocKOiiib.
magnificent, sejiPiKOji'&n-
HblH.
magnitude, BCJH'iiiHa.
Mahomedan, MaroMexa-
HHHl..
maid, ^.tBita, flt.BymKa,
ft'bBCTBeHHima,cjy)KaH-
Ka; — en, ;^'6BH^a, RtB-
Ka; — servant, cjiy-
HtaHKa.
mail, 6poHH, naHitbipb,
jiaTbr, no^Ta, noHTOBaH
Kapexa.
main, ciua, Bjiacxb, ox-
Kpwxoe Mope, OKcaHt;
rjrasHbift, BaHtHu8,6oj[b-
uiofi; — land , Maxe-
pHKT), xBep^aa seM^na ;
— ly, npeHMyn^ecxBes-
HO, oco6jiHBOj — mast,
rpoxTi-MaHxa; — stay,
rpoxa-iiixafb ) — top ,
rpox-b-Mapcb ; — top-
mast, rpoxTj-cxeHbra;
— topsail-lialyard-block,
rpoxi. - MapcatajibHbia
fijiOK'bj — yard, rpoxa-
peH.
maintain, no^iiflepatHBaxb,
coAepatHBaxb , coxpa-
Hflxb BbiflepjKHBaxb, y-
^epiKHBaxb (m'Scxo cpa-
ateHifl), yAepafHBaxbCH
Ha.
maintenance, coAepmaHie,
nponHxanie.
majestic , BejiHqecxBen-
HbiS,
Majesty, BejiaqecxBo, bc-
jiHiie.
major, MaiopT.; — ity, 6ojib-
UJHHCXBO, coBepmeHHO-
jrixie.
make, cxaH-b; to — , a*-
Jiaxb, cA'feJiaxb, sacxa-
Bjiaxb, /^ocxnraxb, ;^o-
xoftHXb flo 'lero; to — a
camp, pacaojaraxbCH
jiarepeMT)) to — a com-
plaint, npuHOCHXb ma-
jio6y, atajiOEaxbca ; to
— a deep impression,
npoH3BOAHXb rjiy6oKoe
Bnenaxj'feHie , CHJbHO
noAtScxBOBaxb; to ~ a
discovery, oxKpwBaxb;
to — a doubt, Aony-
cxHXb coMHtHJej to— a
figure, HMtxb BHAi>; to
— a fire, pasBOAHXb 0-
roHb ; to — a fool of
one's self, npaxBopaxb-
CHAypaHKOMTj, KOp^flXb
HS-b ce6fl Aypaita; to —
a good use, ynoxpe-
fijiaxb BT} nojibsy; to —
a league, Bcxynaxb Bt
coiostj to — an answer,
390 —
^asaTb OTBtTi.; to — an
apology, nsBHHHThCH;
to — an attempt, nbi-
TaTbCfl) to — an effort,
npHjiaraTb cTapanie ;
to — an end of, nojro-
fflHTb KOHeii'b qeMy; to
— an exertion, yno-
TpeGHTb yciijiiej to —
any one merry, Bece-
JiHTb, saSaBJiHTb Koro;
to — a retreat, OTCTy-
naTb; to — a speech,
rOBOpHTb HJIH cKasaTb
pt^b; to — a vigorous
resistance, xpaSpo 3a-
mnmaxbCH, OKasbinaTb
ynopHoe coupoxnBJie-
nie; to — a vow, ^fiTb
oCtTTi; to — excuses,
HSBHHHTbCH, npHBOJHTb
BT. onpaB;iaHie; to —
fast, saKp'bnjiflTb, npu-
KptHjaxb ; to — for,
HanpaBjiHTbCH ; to —
good, npHBOAHTb B-b
^tficTBie, coBepmaxb;
to — good one's right,
samiimaTb cBoe npaBO ;
to— haste, ToponnTbCH^
cntuiHTb; to — head
against any one, boc-
npOTIIB-IHTbCH KOBJy, He
ycTynarb; to — it a
rule, craBHTb ceSt b^
npaBiiJio ; to — one's
appearance, HB-iaxbCH,
DOKasbiBaTbca ; to —
one's moan, ucnycKaTb
Bonjb; to — one's self
familiar , osHaitOMJiH-
Baxbca ; to — peace,
saKjrioiaTb Mnp-b) to —
prisoner , Bsaxb bt.
njitHT.', to —ready, npn-
roxoBJiaxbca) to — room,
^^asaxb Mtcxo; to — the
most of, H3BJieKaxb Bce-
B03M05KHyK) HOJIbSy J tO
— towards any one,
6pocaxbca hjih KHRaxb-
ca Ha Koro ; to — up,
cocxaBJiaxb ; to — up
one's mind, ptmaxbca,
ptmaxb; to — use of,
noJibSOBaxbca H'feM'b ;
to — war, BoeBaxb, Be-
CXH BOSfly, oSTDHBUXb
Bofiny; to — way, ^axb
;i;opory, npoKjaAbiBaxb
ceS* ;^opo^y; he knew
not what to — of this
letter, oH-b He SHajiT.,
MXO 3X0 HHCbMO 3Ha-
HHJio; — more toast,
noAHiapbxe eme Ht-
CKOJIbKO KyCKOBT) XJlt-
6a; that was making
the best of its way
under the bed, koxo-
paa xaK-b n noKaxn-
Jtacb no/^'B KpoBaxb.
malefactor, npecxynHHKT>.
malice, 3jio6a.
malicious, 3Jio6HbiS.
malt, cojioA'b.
Malta, Majbxa.
mamma, jiaiaeHbKa.
man, neJiOBtK^, Mymnna,
jioJo;i;ei^'bj he's the —
for you to trust. Ha
Hero-xo Bw Momexe no-
JioatHXbca ; fellow — ,
xoBapiin;^; — fully, wy-
jKecxBeHHOj — kind, ne-
jiOBtiecKiS poATj; — ly,
jiyffiecKifi, uyjKecxBeH-
Hbifi; — of war, Boen-
Hoe cy^HO.
manage, xosaucxBOBaxb,
ycxpoHBaxbca , ynpas-
.laxb, A'fettcxBOBaxb, o6-
xo^nxbca ct. icfeji'b ,
BJiaAtTb qtMT), ycnt-
Baxb, (KOMy) yAaBaxb-
ca; — able, nocjiyui-
Hbifl, nociiyiujiHBbiM, y-
KJIOHHHBWft , yKJOHJlH-
Bbifi ; — ment. ynpaB-
jreHie, BJiaA'feHie,HcnoJi-
Henie.
mane, rpHBa.
manger, acan.
manifest, ustflBJiflxb, o6-
HapyatHBaxb; — ly, as-
HO, oneBHAHO.
manifold, MHoroiHcjren-
Hblfi.
manner, oepas-b, Manept,
npicMbi; in a—, hISko-
xopbiMTj oSpasoM-b; in
what — , KaKHMi. o6pa-
30M'b? — s, HpaBbi, o6m-
lan.
manor, noMtcxbe, Maex-
Hocxb; — house, yca^b-
6a, 6apcKiS ^omi..
mansion, 6apcKifr romx.
mantle, njiamx,.
manufactory, «a6pHKa,
sanoA'b.
manufacture, *a6pnKa,
saBOATi ; *a6pHKai^ia,
iiaHy*aKxypHaa npo-
MbimjieHHOCxb, Many-
4>aKxypHoe usAtJiie ;
to — , Bblft'fejIIJBaXb, H3-
roxoBjraxb. npoasBO-
AHxb; cotton — , -€yMa-
ronpaAHJibHaa Many-
*aKxypa; hardware — ,
4a6pnKai^ia HcejitsHHxi.
iijiu cxajibHux-b iiSA*-
jiifi; silk — , uieJiKOA*
j[ie ; — r, waHytaKxy-
pucxTb, 4>a6piiiHbift pa-
6oxhhktj, *a6pnqHHKT..
manufacturing, jiaHy*aK-
xypHbifi, *a6pHqHuii.
manuscript, pyKonncb.
many, MHoriJt, iiHorle,
MHOHtecxBo; a good — ,
OHeHb MHoro ; how — ,
CKOJIbKO; so — , CTOJIb-
^
— 391 —
Ko; — a time, mhofo
pasT).
m&p, JiaH;;KapTa, reorpa-
«HiecKaa k.j — of the
world, K.seMHaro mapa.
Maranon, MapaabOHi,.
marauder, rpaGarejib, ua-
poAept.
marble, Mpauop'B, jipa-
MopHwfi njapHKi; jipa-
Mopubift.
march, noxoftt, Mapunj;
to — , HftTu, Mapujiipo-
Baxb, BBiCTynaTb.
March, Mapxi,.
Margaret, MaprapHTa.
marigold, hofotkh.
marine, MopcKofl cojiRaT-bj
— r, MOpflKT).
maritime, MopcKoi.
mark, aHaKt, Mapna; to —
MtTHTb, OTMiqaxB, 3a-
MtiaTb , npHMtqaTb ,
osHaiaxb, o6o3HaiaTb,
ycMaxpHBaTb, yKaaw-
Baxb.
market, pwHOKt; phhoh-
Hbiftj — day, xopro-
BOS, pWHOHHUfi HJIH 6a-
sapHufi ffCHb; — place,
pwHOKt, njioina/i;b.
marl, Msprejib, pyxjaKi).
marquis, ma-pTumsi..
marriage, SpaKocoHexa-
Hie, 6paKi..
marry, KeHUTbCH (Ha),
BblXORHXb 3aMy}K'b(3a).
marshy, 6ojioxHcxbifi.
martial, BoeHHHS, bohh-
OKlfi, BOHHCXBeHHwfi.
martyr, MyieHHKt.
Mary, Mapia, Mapbfl.
masculine, MyaecxBCH-
HLlS.
mask, JiHTHHa, MacKa;
to — , MacKHpoBaxb, ne-
pepafflaxb, npuKpHBaxb.
masque, cm. mask.
mason, KaMeHmnK-b, Myp-
HHIfb.
mass, Macca, oClfeAHa; —
ive, MaccHBHbiS.
massacre, p'Ssna, cfiia;
to -, H36HBaxb, p'fesaxb.
mast , Maixaj — head,
Tonrb Manxbi.
master,6apnHTb, xoshhhi.,
rocnoffHH'b, lUKHnepij
(KOMaHAHpt Eyneie-
CKaro cy/i;na), Macxepi),
yiHxejb, npeiioftaBa-
xcjib, B^ia/^ixejib, rocy-
;^apb; to be — of, oSjia-
flaxb itMi,; — or — of
Arts, uarHCxpii; — ma-
nufactm-er, BjiaA^xeJib
HJIH coAepataxejib 4a-
SpiiKH; — of the Rolls,
HaiajibHHK'b napjtaMeax-
CKaro apxHBa.
masticate, pa3ffieBbiBaxb.
mastiff, 6yJ^b/^o^']b, ii,tn-
Haa coOaKa.
match, napxia, 6paKi>,
cocxasaaie , ctpnaa
cnHHKa, 4>nxHjib; paB-
Hufi; 't is a — , noSbCMCH
o6tj saKJiafltj we are
their — , mh c-b hhmh
cJiaflHM'b; to — , cpaB-
HHBaxb; — less, ne-
cpasHeHHbifi, OesnofloO-
hljM.
mate, Mext, noMomnHK't
(Ha KynenecKOu'b cy/^-
HIJ).
material, uaxepiajn,; —
ly, cymecxBeHHO, 3Ha-
VHXejIbHO.
maternal, MaxepHHCKift;
— uncle, ;^a/^a no Ma-
xepH.
matrimonial, cynpyae-
CKifi.
matter, BemecxBO, maxe-
pia, npe^Mex'b, fltao-,
no — , Hyat^bi Htx-b;
no — for that, 9xo hh-
lero; there was some-
thing the — , xyxTi
Hxo-xo 6buo He xaKtj
— of fact, HCXHHHoe
npoHcmecxBie, taKxij.
mattress, naxpai;!., xio-
maturity, sptjiocxb.
Maurice, MaBpnKift, Mo-
pan, rb.
The Mauritius, ocxpoBi.
filaBpHKia.
maxim, npasmro, noJio-
Htenie.
Maximus, MancHMT..
may, Mory, hm^io no3-
BOJienie, nycxbj — he
make you happy, fla
cfltaaext ont BacB
ciacxjiHBbiM'b ! npoui.
Bp. raight, Mon..
May, Maft.
me, MBHa, MHt.
mead, meadow, Jiynb,
meagre, cKy;i,Hbifi, njo-
xofi.
meal, wyKk, ^^a, o6'fi;^^>,
yatHHTj, Hafi, BooSn^e
cxojn..
mean, nocpeAcxBeaHbifi,
cpeftHiM, npoMBHtyxoH-
Hbifi, HH3KiS, MajiOBaat-
HbiMj in the — time,
— while, Meffi^y x^mtj.
mean , noApasyMtsaxb ,
3Ha4HXb, XOX'fcXb, Ha-
MtpeBaxbca; — ing, 3Ha-
'ieHie,HaM'£peHie) what
is the — ing, hxo aaa-
MHX'b?
means, cpe/^cxBoj by — of
^ocpe;^cxBOM'b; by this — ,
xaKHMTj oSpasoMTj; by
no — , HHCKOJbKO.
meant, cm. mean,
measure, Mtpa, pacno-
paateHie ; beyond — ,
qpesM'SpHO; in a great — ,
B'b BbicoKoS CTencHH;
in some — , hSkoto-
pHMT> oGpasoM-b ; to — ,
HMtTh (bt. npoTHHce-
Hie); — djMtpHbiii; long
— d, flOJiroMtpHbiS.
meat, maco.
mechanic, pejiecjieHHPiK'i;
— al, MexaHHiecKiS; —
ally, MexannqecKU.
medal, MCRajib.
meddle, with any one,
CBHSMBaTKCK, HMllTb
medical, Me;i;nuHHCKiH.
meditate, pasMumjiaTb o
leMi, oSflyMbiBaTb, y-
MHUlJIHTb.
medidation, pasMMuuie-
Hie.
mediterranean, cpeAHseii-
Hbift; the — , CpeAHseM-
Hoe Mope.
meek, KpoxKift, noKop-
HblM.
meet, BCTptnaTb, naxo-
RHTb, BCrp'feHaTbCH, CO-
6HpaTbCfl, C'B'feSJKaTbCa,
cxo3;HTbCfl; to — the ex-
pense, noBpbiBaTb 03-
nepKKH; he had met
with an accident, Cb
Bhmtj cjiyiHjiocb ne-
ciacTie; — ing, co6pa-
Hie, 6orocjiyffie6Hoe co-
6paHie.
melancholy, rpycTHHM,
ataj[Kifi.
melt, TaHTb, pacTaHBaTb,
yuHJiaTb, cmarHaTb.
menfoer, HJieH-b; county
— , BwGpaHHbifi rpa<t-
CTBOMT) HjieHTj oapjia-
MeHTa.
memorable, flocxonawHT-
Hbl8.
— 392 — ^
memorial; BocnoMnHanie,
naMHTb, naMHTHHK'b ,
(flpeBHJfl) pyKOHHCH.
memory, naMHxb.
menace, yrposa; to — ,
rposuTb, yrpoataxb;
men-at-arms, BoopyaceH-
Hbie jiio;i;h.
mend, noqHHHBaxb, HC-
npaBJiHXb, nonpaBJiaxb.
menial, cjiystHxejib, cjy-
ra; ROManiHifi, RBopo-
Bblil.
mental, yMcxBeHHwS.
mention,ynoMHHaHie; to—,
ynoMHHaxb, aasbiBaxb;
not to — , He ynoMHHaxb
0 MCMT., He roBopa o.
mercantile, KyneiecKia,
xoproBbiS.
merchant, Ey^e^■b.
merciful, jinjiocepsbift,
cocxpaaaTejbHwS.
mercilessness, hcmhjio-
cepAie,6e3fflajiocTHOCxb.
Mercury, MepKypifl.
mercy, MHjiocep/i,ie, mh-
jiocxb , noMHJiOBaHie ;
in — , no MHflOcxH Bo-
ffiieS.
mere, ojiimi, xojrbKo, hh
HXO HHOe KRUt XOJIbKO;
— ly , e;i;HHCXBeHHO ,
XOJIbKO.
merit, aocxohhcxbo, sa-
cjiyraj to — , sacjyjKn-
Baxb,
merrily, Becejio.
merriment, Becejiie, bc-
ceJiocxb.
merry, Becejiwfi; Becejo;
— man, Becejibifi iia-
jibifi, BecejbHaicb.
mesh, nexjia (y clixu).
message, stcxb, coo5-
menie, nopyHenie; to
be going on a — from,
HM'fexb nopyienie ori,;
h
to deliver a — , hchoji-
HHxb nopyqenie ; he
sent him a — enjoin-
ing him sobriety, OHt
nocjajiTj eny nacxaBJie-
Hie 6bixb xpesBbiM-b.
messenger, nocjaHHuS,
BtCXHHK'b.
met, CM. meet.
metal, Mexajcji-b; Mexajr-
jimecidu.
metaphysical, MexaoHSH-
lecKifi.
metaphysics,MeTa*H3HKa.
methinks, mh* HajKexca.
method, Mexo;^a,c^oco6'b.
Methodist , MexoAHcxi. ;
a — meeting, 6orocjiy-
H!e6Hoe coSpanie Mexo-
fl;ncxoB'b.
metropolis, cxojiHD;a.
metropolitan, cxojihhhhS.
Mexico, McKCHKa.
mezzotinto, scxaMmj nep-
HblMT. MaHepOWb.
mid-day, nojifleHb;
middle, cpep,HHa; cpeRHiS.
midnight, nojiHo-jb; no-
JiyHOHHblS.
midship, cpe^iaaa Kopa-
6ja; to draw in a — ,
B^EHraXb BTb Kopa6jib
midst, cpeftHHa; cpe^H,
nocpe^H ; in the — ,
cpeftH.
midway, na nojtoBHH'S
/^oporn HJiH nyxH.
might, MorymecTBO, CH-
jia; men of — , ciubHwe
jiioah; cm. xaKTKe may;
— ily, CHJbHO, BecbMaj
— y, MorymecxBeHHHft,
Moryqiil, ciiJibHbi8.
mild, KpOXKiS, HtaiHblS,
npiaxHbifi, yMtpeHHbiS;
— ness, yMl&peHHOCTjb
(K.iinMaxa).
mile, MHJifl.
— 393 —
military, bohhckIH, BoeH-
militia, MHjiHaia, onoji-
neme.
milk, MOJOKo; — white,
CtJlBlfi KaKt MOJIOKO.
mill, wejibHHua, saBOAt;
— er, MCJIbHHK'b
million, MiiJuioH'B.
mind, yMt, Ayxi-, m^^^
naMflxL; to put in — ,
to bring, to any one's
— ,HanoMHHaTb Kosiy; to
— jBHHMaxb leMyipafttTb
0 hSmi., CMOxp'hTb, 3a-
6oTHTbca 0 Hein>;" ne-
ver — , HH^ero! — ful
of, nOMHflmifi HTO.
mine, pyAHHK'b, pyAo-
KonHfl, noAKoaa., Miiaa;
Mofi; — r, pyAOKom..
mineral, MHHepajbHwM.
mingle, jitmaxb, nepe-
MtUlHBaTb.
miniature, MHHiaTiopa,
minister, mhhhctpi., cbs-
n^eHHHK'b, nacTopt; —
of state, rocyAapcTBCH-
HblS MHHHCxpTi; tO — ,
cjiyffiHXB , npHCJiyffiH-
Baxb.
minor, ueHbinifi, uajio-
BaSHblM.
minstrel, MnHEesearep'b,
ntBCu,!) jhoSbm.
mint, MOHexHbifi ABop'b
HJIH SaBOA'b.
minute, MHayxaj MGJiKiS,
noApo6HbiH.
miracle, lyAo.
miraculous, ahbhwA, ny-
AecHbiS,
mirage, Mnpaatt, wapeBO.
mire, rpasb, XHHa, HJiT).
mirth, Bccejiocxbj — ful,
EecejibiS.
miry, hjihcxmS, thhh-
CXblfi .
mischief, sjo, BpeA^.
mischievous, 3jioBpeAHbi8.
miseltoe, oweja (pacxe-
Hie).
miser, cnynei;!., CKpara;
— able, CtACTBeHKbiS,
6'feAni''ft) ffiajiKifi, ffia-
jiocxHbiti, 3JiocqacxHbiM;
— ably, AypHO, njioxo;
— y, OtACTBiej fitAa?
StAHOcxb, HHu^exa.
misfortune, Hecnacxie.
misgive , npeA^yBcxBo-
Baxb; my heart mis-
gave me, MHt Hxo-xo
npcAHyBCXBOBajiocb.
misgovernment, Aypnoe
ynpaBJieaie.
misguide , cSaBaxb c-b
nyxH; this — d father,
Bxox-b saSjyAHBmifica
oxen;!..
mislead, bboahxb b-b sa-
SjiysKAGHie.
Kiss, Jl,'6BH^a, BapMuiHfl,
CyAapbiHfl.
miss, nponycKaxb, He h-
MtTb, He BHA^Xb, He
HaxoAHXb, c'b coHtajii-
HieMTj BcnoMHHaxb o
KOMT., MyBCXBOBaxb no-
xepio Koro; without —
ing a single word, ne
0IIlH5aflCb HH BT. OA-
HOMT) CJIOBt.
missile, MexaxejibHtiS.
missionary, MHccioaepi,;
Kacarocqifica ao mhccIh;
— money-box, KpyscKa
BT. nojbsy MHCcin,
mist, xyuaH-b, airja; — y,
XyMBKHblfi.
mistake, oiun6Ka; no — ,
nojioajHxejibHO xaKt !
to — , ouihGkok) npHHH-
Maxb, He noHHMaxb, o-
mH6axbCH , o6cHHXbi-
BaXbCH.
mistaken, cu mistake;
ouihCohhhS ; — man ,
o6MaHUBaiom,ifi caiuaro
ce6a HejiOB'feK'b; to be
— ouiH5axbca,
mistook, CM. mistake.
mistress, BjiaAtxejibHHi^a,
GapHHa, xosfliiKa.
mistrust, ne AOBtpaxt.
mitre, MHxpa, euHCKon-
CKaa luanKa.
mittimus , nocbMeHHoe
npeAnncanie MnpoBaro
cyAbH apecxoBaxb a co-
Aepataxb b'b xjopbMt
HOAcyAHuaro.
mix, MtlUaXb, CMtlUH-
Baxbj to — up, nepe-
MtniHBaxb; — ture, CM'fi-
nieHie, npHMtcb.
mizen, Gnsanb , 6H3aRi>-
Maixa; — mast, 6a-
saHb-Manxa; - shrouds,
6H3aHb-BaHXbi; ^ top,
Kpioficb-MapcB; — top-
mast, KpioficbcxeHbra.
moan, cxohtj, cxeHaeie;
to —, cxoHaxb; — ing,
cxOHaHie.
mode, o6pa3'B, cnoco6i>,
oSsi'iafi^ MOAa.
model, MOAejib, oSpaaeA'b.
moderate , yMtpenHbifi ,
cpeAHifi, nocpeAcxBen-
Hbl8.
modern, hobbiS, noBtfi-
mii^, HbiH^mHifi.
modest, ckpomhwS.
modicum, AOJfl,KpouieHKa.
modify, ESM^HaTb, onpe-
A^Jiaxb.
Mohammedan, MaroMcxaH-
CKifi.
moisten, HaMa^HBaxb.
molest, fiesnoKOHXb.
The Moluccas, MojyKK-
CKie ocxpoBa.
moment, noMeHxi,, Mrno.
50
— 394
•#
Beaie, MHrt, MHHyxa,
BpcMH, BasHOCTt; for
a few — 8, Ha HtCKOJibKO
MHHyTi.; — ary, MFHO-
BeHHWfi, BpeMCHHHM.
monarcb, Monapxt; — y,
eRHHORepataBie, MOHap-
xifl.
monastery, MOHacxwpb.
Monday, none/i'fejibHHK'b.
money, AeHfcrH^^ReHeHCHHfi}
a piece of — , MOHBTa.
Hongal, MoHrojii>.
monk, MOHaxi).
monkey, oeestHHa.
monopoly, MOHOnojiin.
monotonous, e^HHooSpas-
HHfi, MOHOTOHHBIH.
monotony, o;^Hoo6pa3ie.
monster, HyffOBHme.
month, M'6cH^'b.
monument , naMaTHiiEi>,
MOHyMeHTt.
moon, Mtcai^i.^ JiyHa.
moor, CTenb, 60JIOT0; to
— yKpinjiflTb, msap-
TOBHTb.
mop, mBa6pa.
moral, HpaBCTBeHHufi; —
ity, HpaBoy'jeHie,HpaB-
CTBCHHOCTb; — s, Hpa-
BOyHBHie, Mopajib.
more, dojibmifi, Coa^e,
6ojibme; eme} — im-
portant, BaatH'te; —
over, cBepx-b Toro; —
than one, ae orhh-b;
not any — , Soj'Sb ne
Haso6HO; two — , eme
RBa.
morning, yTpo; yTpBH-
HiS; — light, yTpeHHHfl
8apa; in the — yTpou-b,
no yxpy.
morrow, saBTpamHifi ACHb,
yxpo.
mortal, cuepTHuM.
mortgage, saEjiapiBaTb,
saBaTb Bt saKjia^Ti.
mortify, oropnaTb;— ing,
oropsHTejtbHbiit,
mosaic, MOsanqecElM.
Moscow, MocKBa.
moss, MoxTb.
most, Sojibraaa HacTb, ca-
MbiS.} Becbua^ Sojie
Bcero, HaH6oj['fee; —
excellent , npeoxjini-
hwh; for the — part,
— ly, no Cojbuiofi na-
cth; — of all, Cojite
Bcero.
mother, warb; — country,
oxeiecTBO, po;^HHa.
motion, RBHatenie; — less,
GesTi SBHffiBHia, aeno-
;^BHacHbIS.
motive , no6ysHxejibHaa
npHHHHa, noBOji^'h,
motto, AeB03i>, aa^HHCb.
moulder away, pascbi-
naxbca, pacna^axb.
moulding, xsmmcb, Eap-
3031).
mound, njoxana.
mount, BOCxo;i;HXb aa 'qxo,
ca/^Hxtea (aa jionia/i;b,
BT> sapexy), oSa^jtm-
Baxb, onpaBJiaxbj — ain,
ropa, ropabiS; — ain-
OTis, ropncxMH; — ed,
BepxoBofi ; — ed on
horseback, BepxoMTj.
Mount Blanc , MoaTb-
BjraaT..
mourner, cEopGamift, —
n^aa, ocxaBiuifica no-
CJi* yjiepmaro.
mournful, njtaqeBHbifi.ne-
lajibHbiS, sayHbiBHbifi.
mourning, xpaypt, xpa-
ypHbii'r.
mouse, Mbiuib.
mouth, poTt.MopAa.ycxbe;
— ful, rjioxoKij, EycoEt.
movable, noRBnaraoS;
move, SBHraxb, npHBORHXB
BT. ABHHteaie, BoaCyat-
flaxb, npeffljaraxB, xpo-
raxb, ABHraxbca, xpo-
raxbca, xoahxbj to —
aside, oxo^BHraxb; to
— off, yXOAHXb, H^XH
Aajte; to — one's fin-
gers about, meBeJHTb
^aJIb^aMH; to — to, ne-
pexoflHXb aa (spyroe
Mtcxo); — ment, rbh-
Hteaie.
Mr. (coEp. Mister), roc-
noAHB-b.
Mrs. (coEp. Mistress),
rocnoHsa.
much, MBOroe, Maoris,
SojTbinoS; Maoro, oieab,
ropasAo; as — as to say
Bbipaataa sxaM-b ; four
times as — , Bt qexw-
pe pasa SoJibme; in —
distress, cajibao coEpy-
inaacb; so — , cxoJibEO,
xaET)) so — the more,
x'Sm'b 6oj[bnie; to be too
— - for one, nepecHJiH-
Baxb Boro; with— plea-
sure, Cb 6ojibniHM'B y-
AOBOJibcxBieM-b.
mud, rpasb, HJii., xHHa,
rjiHHa.
muffin, .leneiLEa.
muffle, OEyxuBaxb, saaep-
XblBaXb.
Muhammedanism, Maro-
MBxaHCBaa Btpa.
muleteer , noAroan^HK'B
JioraaKOB'b.
multiply, yjiHOHtaxb, paa-
MHOHtaXb.
multitude , MaoBtecxao,
xojina.
mum, 6c3MOJIBBEl3, a'b-
M08 ; I must be — , a
AOJmeH'b Moaqaxb.
- 395
murder, CMepxoyfiificTBo;
to — , y6HBaTb; — er,
CMepToy6ifiita.
murmur, BopnaHie, po-
nOTt, ponTanie; to — ,
ffiypqaxt, ponxaTb.
muse, Myaa; to — , ^y-
Maxb 0 HeM-B.
museum. MyaeyMtjMysefi
music, MyawKa; — al, wy-
SbiKajibHufi; — ian, siy-
3blKaHXT).
musket, MyniKex-B , pyatbe ;
— ry, pyatbfl; — shot,
pyHtefiHbiM Bbicxp'fijT,.
muslin, MycjiMHt, KHcea.
must, ROJIffiCHt, flOJUKCHT)
6wjn)j they — all have
perished, joJiHtHO 6bixb
OHH Bcfe nora6jivi.
muster , cMoxpT. (Bofi-
CKaMt) ; to — , co6h-
paxb, coSapaxbca.
mUtCj HtMOfi, 6e3MOJIB-
HHfi; not one of them
was — , HH 0RHH1) HSTj
KHX-B He MOJI'iaJI'i} — s,
jri03;u, KOxopbiXTi pac-
nopflftHxejiH noxopoHTb
cxaBflxt y RBepefl ;^o-
Ma noKOHHHKa ;i,o bh-
Hoca xtjia.
mutilate, HCKaHtaxb, asy-
B'feqHBaxb. "
mutineer, fiyHxoBmHKi, ,
MflXeHtHHKt,
mutinous , CyHTOBCKoS,
MaxeatHbifl,
mutiny, Maxeat-b.
mutter, 6opMoxaxb.
mutton) SapaHHHa.
mutual, BsaHMHwa; — ly,
BsaHMHO, o6oio/i;ho.
my, Mofi;— self, a c&ui,.
Mysore, Mnsop-b} of — ,
MnaopcKiS.
mysterious, xaHHciBCH-
hhS, HenonaxHHft.
mystery, xaKHa.
mythology, nneojioria.
nag, jioma/i;Ba.
nail up, npnSHBaxb, rB03-
;^aMH.
naked, HaroS, fojimS.
name, hmh, «aMiij[iH, na-
SBahie; my — is, Mena
aoByxt; to — , hmoho-
Baxb, HasbiBaxb, ro-
cxaBJiaxb CB'fe/i;'hHiH o
hcmtj; — ly, HMeHHo;
— sake, xesKa, oaho-
taMMJiei^T..
nap, KopoxKjfi coHi., ffpe-
Moxa; to take a — , co-
CHyxb,
Naples, Heaaojib.
narrate, pascKasbiBaxb,
nOB'feCXBOBaXb.
narrative, paacKaa-bj no-
BtcxBOBaxejibHbiS.
narrator, pascKamnK-b.
narrow, ysKiS^ xtcHbiS;
he had a — escape, OHt
Cb xpyflOMi. cnacca;
in — cii'cumstances,
■ BTi CTlbCHeHHblX'b o6-
cxoflxejibcxBax'b; to — ,
CbyHtHBaxbca; — ly,
lyxb, qyxb qyxb; — ness,
orpaHHieHHOCxb.
nasal, rHycjiHBbiM.
nation, nai^ia, Hapo/i;^)
— aljHapoffHbia, Hai^io-
Ha-abHbifi; the — al debt,
rocyaapcxBCHHbifi^iojir'b.
native, ypoffleHe^'b , xy-
SeMCl^'B.npHpORHblfiffiH-
xejib; oxeiecxBeHHHfij
xyseMHwft, po/i;Hoft.
natural , ecxecxBeHHMfi,
npHpo?,HH8, Haxypajib-
HblfljCBOficXBeHHWfi; —
ly, ecxecxBBHHOjHaxy-
pajibHo.
nature, npnpoRa, po/^-b,
CBoftcxBo , Haxypa,
HpaB-b; good — , ;^o6po-
ffyiuie.
naval, MopcKoft, *;iox-
CKiS, npHMopcKifi.
navigate, njiaBaxb; to —
a ship, ynpasjiaxb, .
npaBHXb cy;^HOM'b, necxH
cy;^HO.
navigation, cy;^oxoACTBo,
cyfl;onjiaBaHie,Kopa6jie-
nxaBaHie, HaBnrai^iH.
navigator , MopenjiaBa-
xejib, Mopexojten'b, p.a-
BHraxop-b.
navy, ojiox-b, MopcKia ch-
jbi; — board, cm. board,
nay, Htx-b, ho, ^ase,
near, fijiasKiM; 6jih3ko,
6ji03b, noHXH, b6ji03h;
— by, ^o/^JI'fe, BosJit;
— ly, 6jih3ko, hohxh;
not — ly 80, coBctM-b
He xaKT).
neat, onpaTHwfi; — ly,
MHCxo, onpaxHO, Kpa-
CHBO.
necessaries, noxpe6HocxH.
necessary, Heo6xoAHMbifi.
necessitate, npHHys^axb.
necessitous, Hy!K/i;aioinifica.
necessity, nyatfla, Heo6-
xo^HMOcxb , noxpeS-
HOCXb.
neck, mea; —or nought,
Ha CMepxb, a ne na
2tHB0Xl>.
Ned, CM. Edward.
need, HyjBj^a, Ha;^o6HOcxb;
in time of — , B-b cjiy-
qa-fe Heo6xosHMOCXH; to
be in great — of, oneHb
Hyainaxbca Bt hcmt.;
to — , nys^axbCH bt.
— 396 —
newb, BMlfeTb Ha;^o6-
HOCTb; — ful, HyffiHbiS,
noTpe6HB>i8j — s, ne-
o6xo;;hmo, HenpeiulfeHHO.
ne'er, cm. never,
nefarious , rHycHuM ,
no3;jrbifi.
negative, OTpni;aHie, OT-
Bast; to answer in
the — , OTBtnaTb Ha
HTO orpHi^axeJibHO.
neglect, npeHe6peffieHie,
sanymeme; to — , npe-
HeSperaxb, sanycKaxb,
ynycKaxb.
negligence, HepaflHBocxb,
onjomHOCxb.
negociate, negotiate, ro-
roBapHbaxbca , bccxh
neperoBopw.
Negro, Herpt.
neigh, pnaxb.
neighboar, cocfeA-b, 6jnHt-
HiB; — hood, cocfe/i;-
cxBO, cxpaHaj — ing,
COCfeHCTBeHHblfi.
neither, hh xoxt hh ^py-
roft, HH OAHH-B, xaKHce
He; — ...nor, hh...hh.
nepheWj njieMaaHHKij,
nest, rHtsffo.
nestle, Bcejiaxbca BO Hxo.
net, network, ctxb.
net, qncxbii}, nexxo.
nettle, KpauHBa.
never, H0Kor;;a5 He, hh;
— the less, npn aceM-b
TOMT., TtHTi He MeHtej
— once, HH o;i;Horo pa-
30, HH pasy.
new, HOBwS, CBiatiS; —
comer, npHuicjei^Tj} —
]y, BHOBb, He/i;aBHO.
Newcastle, Hbio^Kacxejib.
Newfonndland , Hbio-
$ayH/;jieHA'b; Hbio-
$ayH/^JIeH;^CKiM.
New-Orleans, HoBbiM-Op-
jieaH-b.
news, HOBOeXH, BtCXb,
HSB'fecxie; — letter, ra-
sexHoe HHCLMOj — pa-
per, B'fe;^0M0cxb, rase-
xa; — writer, rasex-
HHItt.
New South Wales, Ho-
Bblfi lOfflHblft BajTJHCb.
New Zealand, HoBaa3e-
JIaH/^iH.
next, cjitAyiomift, Cyry-
miS, 6j[Hffiafiiaifi; no-
xoMT., nocjcfe sxoro;
— week, Ha 6y;i;ymeS hc-
nice, xopomiS,BKycHb]H,
ciaBBbiS, xoqHbili, pas-
6opqHBbift, onacHbiH,
saxpy^HHxejbHbiSj —
ty , pasoopqnBOcxb,
XO'IHOCXb.
Nicholas, HnKciafi.
nickname , nposBHu^e,
/!;aHHoe Bt HacMtiuFy;
to — , npOBHBaXb BTb
HaiDJ'feuiEy.
nigh, 6jih3ko.
night, H04b, BeHepTjjHOI-
HoS; — cap, HoiHoft
HJIH CnaJTbHblft KOJT-
naK'bj — dress, cnajbHoe
njiaxbej — ly, HO^bio;
— quarters, noijiert;
at — , HOHbK), Beie-
poMi; at — fall, npa
HacxynjieHiH hohh; to
— , cerORHa BeiepoMt.
Nile, Khjii,; of the — ,
HiajibCKifi.
nimble, 6bicxpHH.
nine, ffCBaxb} — and twen-
ty, ;^Baa^axb ^CBaxb; —
teenth, 3,eBflXHa/i,i;axHii;
tieth, /i,eBHH0cxbi8; —
ty, AeaaHOcxo.
Nineveh, HaneBia.
ninth, ACBaxbiS.
nip, oxmanbibaxb, Kycaxb.
no, HHKaKofi, Htx-b, He;
you have — gravy, y
Bacb Htxt horjihbkh;
— body, — man, — one,
HHKTo; — doubt, 6e3T)
coMH-feflia; — where,
HHr/i'fi.
nobility , rbophhcxbo,
SjiaropoRCXBO.
noble, RBopaHHH'b; Ho6ji'b
(cxapHHHaa Moaexa, aa
aaiUH ACHbrH okojio 2
py6. 10 Kon. c); 6jia-
ropoRHbiS, cjiaBHH&,
npeBOCxoAHbiM} — man,
ABOpaHHH-B.
nobly, fijiaropoAHo.
nod, 3HaKT>. •
noise, myin,; — less,
SesniyMBbiM.
nominal, HMaaaoS, ao-
HeTHbiS;— ly.ao nMeaa;
the complement of the
ship was — ly, aixax-
HbiS KOMnJieKXT. KO-
paSjia fibijiX).
nonconformist, hohkoh-
OOpMHCXl).
none, hh oahht-, hhkxo,
HHHTO, HHqero; — the
less, npa BceM-b xomtj,
xtMii ae' MCHlfee; that
they were — the better
for the blessings of
the Druids, and - the
worse for the curses
of the Druids, ixo
6jiarocjiOBeHia JJipya-
robtj HM-b ae npHHO-
CHJiu aHKaKoii nojbSM
H 1X0 hxtj npoKJiaxia
ae npH"jHHajiH hmtj hh-
KaKoro Bpe^a.
nonresistance, aeconpo-
XHBJieHiC.
nonsense, nycxaKH.
— 397
nook, yroJiT..
noon, noJiAeHb; — day,
noji/i,eHb, nojiyfleHHbifl.
nor, HM, He, H He; — do
I believe, h h He
J^JMSiK).
Norman, HopMaHHij; Hop-
MaHCKiii;— dy, HopMan-
Aih; the— French, Hop-
MaHH0-$paHrjy3M.
north, cfeBept; ctBepHbifi,
K-b cibBepy; — erly, —
em, ctsepHbiM; — west,
C'feBepo-8ana/i,'b, ctse-
po-3anaAHbiii.
North American, cfeBepo-
asiepHKaHCKiM; the —
Sea, Htmei^Koe Mope.
Norway, HopBerin.
Norwegian. HopBeacei^'b.
nose, Hoct.
nostril, nosApa.
not. He, hh; — yetj HtTt
eine.
notable, 3a6oTJiHBbi&, xjo-
nOTJIHBblii, SHaXHblH.
notch, aapySha, sasy-
6pHHa; to — , 3apy-
6aTb, 3a3y6pnBaTb.
note, SHaKt, 3an0CKa,
CHjexTj , saMtqanie,
npHMt^aHie, Hoxa, Baa:-
HOCTb, H3B'feCTH0CTb;
she did not make a
single false — , OHa hh
pa3y He c*3JibmHBH;ia;
to—, npHM'feiaTb; — d,
HSBtCTHblS.
nothing, umno, nmero.
notice, saMtianie, bhh-
laanie, n3B'feCTie, ysife-
;tOMJieHie, oStaB^ieHie;
at very short — , B-b
BCCbMa CKOpOMTj Bpe-
MeHH no 3aHBj[eHiii;
without his— ,6e3'b ero
Bt^OMa; to — 5 saMt-
Haxb, npHMtHaxb.
notion, nonaiie, MHtnie.
notorious, H3BfecTHbiM,
oCmecxBeHHbiiJ.
notwithstanding , ne
cMoxpH Ha, He BSupaH
Ha.
nought, HHqxo.
Nova Scotia, Hobaa UIox-
JIaH;^ifl.
novel, poMaHt; — ist, Hy-
BCJIHCXl) , CO'JHHHXeJb
poMaHOB'b; — ty, ho-
BOCXb, HOBHSHa.
November, HoaSpt.
now, xenepb, hwh*; ho,
a, JKe; iiy ! — a days,
Bi> HMH'bmHia BpeMCHa;
— and then, HHor/i;a;
till — , ]i,o CHx-b nopt,
no cie BpeMa.
noxious, Bpe/iiHbiS.
nucleus, a/ipo, sepno, cy-
mecxBeHHoe,cyn^HOCxb,
Haiajio.
nuisance, 6e3noKoftcxBo,
sapasa,
number, 'jhcjio, MHoate-
CXBOj to — , C>JHTaXfc5
— s, HHCJieHHaa CHJia
(B08cKa', MHOffieCXBO.
Numbers, ^ncjia.
numerous, MHoroincjieH-
HblS.
nunnery, atencKia MOHa-
CTbipb.
nurse, HHHbKa, KOPMHJIH-
Ma; to — , xoAHXb sa
KlfeMi.; — ry, s'fexcKaa,
pa3CaAHiaK'b,nHX0MHHK'B
nut, optxT,"; —meg, My-
niKaxHuS optxt.
0.
0, oh, o! axi!
oak, AySt, Ay<5oBoe fle-
pcBo; — . —en, Ay(5o-
BbiiJ.
oar, Becjio.
oath, KJiflXBa, npHcara,
6offi6a; to utter an — ,
6ojKHXbca.
oatmeal, OBCanaa: Myna.
oats, OBect.
obedience, nocjiyniHocTb,
nocjrymaHie.
obedient , nocjiyuiHufi,
nonopHbift.
obey, cjiymaxbCH, hobh-
HOBaxbca.
object, npeAMexTi, n;*jib,
HaM'fepeHie; —ion, bo3-
paHtenie.
obligation, OAOJiffieHie, o-
6a3axejibcxB0. ,
oblige, o6H3biBaTb, OAOJ-
Htaxb , npHHyjKAaTb ;
much — d, OHQHb o6fl-
SaHT).
obliging, o6a3axejibHMa,
OAO-iatHxejbHbiS.
oblivion, 3a6BeHie, Bce-
TipomeHie.
obscure, MpaqHwfi, xeM-
Hbiftj to — , noMpanaxb,
3axM'feBaxb.
obscurity, Mpa^Hocxb, ne-
acHOCxb,
obsequies, noxopoHbi,no-
rpe6eHie.
obsequious, noACjyacJiH-
BblS.
observance, noixenie, no-
HXHXejIbHOCXb.
observant, HafijioAaxejib-
HblS.
observation, Ha6jnoAeHie,
C03epii,aHie, 3aM'feHaHie.
observe, Ha6jiiOAaxb, co-
6jiK)Aaxb , saMtnaxb;
he — d as follows, ohtj
CA'fiJiajn.cjitAyion^ia sa-
Mtianiaj — r, Hafijuo-
Aaxejb, npHMtiaxejib.
398 —
obsolete, o6BeTmaJHM,He-
ynoTpeGHTejiBHbifi.
obstinacy, ynpaMCTBo.
obstinate, ynpHMwS, y-
nopHuM; — ly, ynpHMO,
ynopHO.
obstruction, npenaTCTBie.
obtain, AOCTaBaxb, npio-
fiptxaTb, uojiy<iaTb, /^o-
SbiBaTbjto — a victory,
o;^epfflaTb ^o6'fi;^y.'
Obviate,OTBpainaTb, npe/i;-
ynpeiKftaTb.
obvious, o<^eBH;^HbIil; —
ly, OHeBH/i;H0.
occasion, cjjyiafi, Ha;^o6-
HOCTb, nOBOffTj, npHHH-
na; to take — , noab-
soBaxbca cjiyiaeMi.; to
— , npHHHHHTb, ^o;^a-
BaTb noBO/i.'b Ki> HeMy;
— al, ciyHaiiHHM; —
ally, cjyqafiHO, npa
cjiyiat.
occupant, saHHMaioii^iM,
o6ja/i,aTejb.
OCCUpation,3aHflTie,ynpaat-
HCHie.
occupy, saHHMaTb, 3aHH-
MaTbCH.
OCCUr,upHKJii04aTbCfl,cjry-
laTbCH, npoHcxo;i;HTb;
— rence, npHKJiio<ienie,
npoHcmecTBie, BCTpl&Ha,
ocean, oKeaH-b.
Oceania, OiteaHiH hjih Ab-
crpajiia.
o'clock, CM. clock.
octagonal, ocbMHyrojibHbifi
October, OKxaSpb, xaKate
KptnKoe nHBOjBapHMOe
ST. Okth6p*.
odd, CTpaHHwS.
ode, OAa.
odious, HeHaBHCTHUil.
o'er, CM. over,
o'erjoyed, cm. overjoy,
of, 3HaKi. po;;HT. n&p,em&;
03^, OTi>, y, 0, o6i>;
— themselves , caMH
C06010.
off, ffajieKO, flajite. Ha
pa3CToaHiH,OT'b,npoHb,
;^OJIofi, npoTHB-b, na
BbicoTt; three doors
— , iipoTHB-b TpexbHro
/i;oMa oxxy^a; the better
— the people would
be, x^MT. Hapoffy Smjio
6bi Jiyqme.
offence, o6H;iia, npecxyn-
jieHie; to give — , o6h-
Htaxb, cepAHXb.
offend, p6H3Kaxb, ocKop6-
jiaxb, npoBHHaxbca; —
er, npecxynHHKTj', — er
against discipline, na
pyUlHXejIb AHCI^HUJIHHM.
offer, npe^JioiKeHie} to — ,
npe/i,Jiaraxb, npe^cxaB-
jiaxb, npHHOCHXb; to —
opposition, oKasHBaxb
conpoxiiBJieHie; to — up
prayers, Boscbijiaxb mo-
.IHXBbl.
office, AOJIiKHOCXb, MtCXO,
cjiy3K6a, KOHXopa, itaH-
i;ejiflpia, npHcyxcxBea-
Hoe M'Jfecxo, ycjiyra ;
— r, o$HiJ,epi,, qHHOB-
HiiK-b; —r of state, ro-
cyAapcxBCHHufl canoB-
HHKl.,
officious , ycjyjKJiHBbiS,
cjihuikomtj ycjiyatJiHBwfi;
— ly, ycjiyfflJiHBO.
offspring, noxoMKn.
oft, often, lacxo.
oh, 0! axt!
oil, Macjio (sepeBKHHoe).
old, cxapuS, ApeBHifi;
eight years — , BoceMb
jitxTb oxi> po^yj of — ,
HCKOHH, n3ApeBJie,apeB-
Hifi; —age, cxapocxb;
— man, cxapHKT>; —
woman, cxapyxa.
Old Bailey, Ha3BaHie ojs,-
HOS XIOpbMM B-B AOH-
AOH*.
olive, OJIHBKOBMfi.
omission, onyn^eme.
omit, ynycKaxb.
omnibus, oMHaeycb, 06-
mecxBCHHaa Kapexa.
on, BnepeAt, Aajite; na,
Ha^'b, KT), 0, oStj, npa,
no, btj, cb; KoxAa; —
all sides, co Bcfex-B
cxopoH-b ; -^ which ,
nocjit lero.
once, OAHHT) pas-b, pasTi,
OAHaatAMj all at — ,
BApyn>; at — BApyr-b,
xoxqacT. ; — more , eu;e
pas-b.
one, OAHH-b, HtKxo; —
by — , OAHHt no oa-
HOMy; every — , Kaat-
AbiS, BCHKiii; — horse,
OAHOKOHHbiS; — is oft-
en surprised, lacTO
yAHBJiaeuibCH.
only , eAHHcxBeHRbiM;
XO.!IbKO.
onwards, BnepeA-b, AaJi*e.
ooze, THxo Btflxb, me-
jiecxHXb.
open, oxKpbixbiS, oxBo-
pcHHuS; to — , OXKpbl-
Baxb, oxBopaxb, oxnn-
paxb, pacneiaxMBaxb,
pasBepxbiBaxb, oxKpw-
Baxbca; to — up to,
BbixoAnxb Ha, fibixb
odpameHHbiM-b K-b; —
ing, oxBepcxie, oxKpbi-
xie, naiajo.
operate, A^ScxBOBaxi..
operation, A*ficTBie, one-
pai;ifl»
opinion, MH*Hie; in my
— , no MOCMy MHtHilO.
399
opponent, npoxnBHHK'b.
opportunity, cjiynafi.
Oppose,npoTHBOnojiaraTi.,
npoTHBonocxaBJiflTb ,
conpoTHBJiHTbca, npo-
THBOCTOHTb, npOTHBO-
6opcfBOBaTb.
opposite, npoTHBonojiOffl-
hhS, npoTHBHHSj cy-
npOTHBT..
opposition, npoTHBOno-
JIOatHOCTb, COUpOTHB-
jtenie, npoxHBHaa nap-
Tin, onnosHuia; in —
to, npoTHB-b Koro.
oppress, yrHexaTb; — ion,
npHTfiCHenie, yrnere-
Hie; — ive, npHT*cHH-
TejibHw§^ — or, npn-
TtCHHTejib, roHaxejb.
optical, spHxejbHbifi, on-
THHCCKiS.
opulence, GjiarococxOHHie,
AOCTaxoKt, 6oraxcxBo.
or, HJiH, HHaie, a He to.
oracle, opaKyj'b, npopa-
i^aaie.
orange, anejibCHHt, no-
MepaHej^-b, opaHffieBwS
i^Btxt; noMepaHi^OBbiH,
oration, ptib, cjobo.
oratory, BHxificxBo, Kpac-
Hopiqie, paxopsKa.
orb , raapt , He6ecHoe
TtJIO.
orbit, opSaxa.
orchard, *pyKxoBHft ca^i..
ordain, noseji'BBaxb, onpe-
A^JIHTb.
order, npHKasij, npsKa-
aaHie, ^pe;^^HcaH>e, sa-
KasT., op/^ep-b, nopa-
;^OK'b , ycxpoMcxBO ,
HHH'B, cocjioBie, op-
ReHTb; in — that, in —
to, HToSbi; to give — ,
OT^aBaxb npEutasTj ; to
be in .— s, ^pHHa;^J(e-
Htaxb nyxoBHOuy 3Ba-
Hiio; to — , npHKasbi-'
Baxb, 3aKa3biBaxb; to
— out, KOMRHAHpOBaXb,
Hapaasaxb , npHKasaxb
no^aBaxb
she
ed
from the table, ona Be-
jiijia ySpaxb co cxojraj
— ]y , nopaflOHHbiS ,
CKpoMHwfi, 6jiaroHpaB-
Hbl3.
ordinarily, oSbiKHOBenHo.
ordinary, npocxoft, oShk-
HOBCHHtlS.
organ-player, opraHHcx-b.
origin, nana^io, npoHc-
xo3K;i;eHie; — al, no^-
JHHHHKT), opirrHHaii'b;
opHrHHajibHbiS, nepBO-
BaHajibHbi8, nepBoGbix-
hmh; — ally, nepBOHa-
lajibHo; to — ate in,
npoHcxOAHTb, npoHcxe-
KaXb HSTb.
ornament , yKpauienie;
to — , yKpaiiiaxb, y6H
paxb; — al, cjiyatan^ift
yKpameHlQMii,
orse, CM. horse,
oscillation, KaiaHie, na-
xanie.
osse, CM. horse,
ostentatious, xn^ecjiaB.
HhM, XBaCXJIHBblU.
ostler, CM. hostler.
Ostorious, OcTopift.
ostrich, cxpoycbj cxpoy-
COBblS.
other, ApyroM; the— day,
HeAaBHO ; — wise^
HHane.
ought, AOJiHteai., AOJi-
BteHTi 6biJi'h; they — to
know , OHH AOJIHtHM
3Haxb; they — to have
knov^n, ohh AOJifflHbi
CwjihS'b snaxb.
our, Haiitj come to —
aid, iipifiAHxe nhwh na
noMomb! —selves, mm
caMH.
out, BOHTj, BHt, Ha flBO-
pt; the floods are — ,
pliKH BHCXynHJH HS-b
fieperoB-b; the wolves
are — , bojikh xoAax-b;
— at sea, bi> oxKpu-
TOMT. MOp*; — of, H3Tj,
HSt IHCJia, bhIjj — of
proportion, hb btj npo-
nopi;iH, HecopasMtpHo;
— of sight, HS-b bhay;
she was — of the way,
ea xyx-b He Ohjo.
outbrave, npe.Bbiuiaxb bT)
xpaSpocTH, npesapaxb.
outbreak, naHa^o, na-
qaxie.
outcast, HSBeprTb, H3-
rHaHKHK^b"! "~"
outdo, npeBOCxoAHXb.
outer, BHtiUHiS,
outlaw, QSrHaHHHR'b.
outline, OHepK-b, aSpaci..
outnumber, npesocxo-
AHTb HHCJtOMTi.
outrage , nopyrauie ,
ocKopSjieflie, Haciijib-
cTBOBanie; to— , nopy-
raxb, ocKop6jiHXb.
outshine, npcBocxoAHXb
BT) SjiecK'fi, noMpanaxb
outshone, cm. outshine.
outside, HapyiKHaa exo-
poHE} CHapyjKHj Ha
ABopfi.
outskirt, Kpafi, opeAUt-
cxie.
outstrip, oSroHHXb, one-
peatHBaxb,
oval, OBajibHbifi.
over, ■jepes'b, HaA-b,
CBepxTj, no, 3a; cjhiu-
KOMt; — again, CHOBa;
— and again, CHOsa h
CHOBa; all — ,no BCCMy; to
— 400
be—, KOHqaxbCfl, npo-
xo;^HTI..
overboard, sa eopT-b.
overcome, oAojitBaxb, npe
OflOJ'feBaTB.
overflowing, npensGBi-
TOIHblfi, ipesMtpHufi.
overgrown , o6pocjiwM,
HCnOMtpHblS.
overhead, na/^t fojobok),
Ba Bepxy.
overjoy, oGpa^OBaTb, boc-
XHTHTb.
overleap, nepecKaKHBaTb,
nepenpbirHBaxb.
overlook, npocMaxpHBaTb,
nponycKaxb.
overmatch, nepecHjHBaxb,
Dpeo;^OJI'fiBaTb,
overpower, nepemoraxb,
nepecHjiHBaxb.
overrate, cjiHuiKOMt bbi-
COKO j^tRHXb, npeyse-
JIH"JHBaxb.
overruling, BctM'b ynpaB
jiflioa^ift HJH pacnojia-
raiomiS.
overran, noKpbieaxb^ Ha-
BO/!;HflXb, onycxomaxb
over-scrupulous, cjhui-
KOMt MHHXejbHblfi.
overset, onpoKn/^WBaxb.
overspread, noKpwBaxb,
pacnpocxpaHflXbca no.
overtake, floronaxb, Ha-
cxHraxb.
overtaken, cm. overtake.
overthrow, nopajKenie,
pasopeHie , nornScjb;
to -, Dopaasaxb^ pa3-
6HBaxb.
overturn, onpoivH;i,wBaxb,
paspymaxb.
overwhelm, oAo^-feBaxb.
npeoftOJtBaxb, ochjih-
Baxb, noStffiAaxb, no-
Kopaxb, o6y3SHBaxb,
aaxonjiflxb.
overwork , naflopBaxbca
pafioxoio.
Ovid, OBH;i;ig.
owe, 6blXb /i;OJl!KHbIM'b,
GbJXb oSaSaHHblJfB H'fejl'b
owing, AojiKHbifi; — to,
no npaqHRt) to be —
to, npoHcxo;];HXb oxt,
npoHcxcKaxb iis-b.
own, coCcxBeHHwH; to— J
npH3HaBaxb| — er, BJia-
fl'fejier('B, xosaHHTj.
OX, 6l>IK'b, BO-ITj.
Oxford, Okc^opat,; Okc-
c-op/^CKiS.
Oxonian, OKC4op;^cKifi cxy-
RCHXT..
oyster, ycxpima,
P.
pace, mar-b; to — , xoahxb
HJaroMT,; to — up and
down the room, pac-
xasHsaxb no KOMHaxb.
the Pacific, the — ocean,
Taxifi OKeaHT).
pack, cxaflo'.
packet, naKex-b, CBasKa.
packhorse, aoMOBaa bjh
BbioiHaa jiouia/i,b.
packsaddle, BbioiHoe ct-
MO.
paddle, Jionacxb, rpe6oKi>,
po^.'b Becjia ynoxpe6jia
CMaro y p.hkhx'b napo-
;^OB'b Ha jio;i;Kax'B.
pagan , asbiMecKiM ; —
looking, flSbiqecKin na
BH/I.'b.
page, cxpanima, naHvT..
pageant, nosopnme.
paid, CM. pay.
pain, 6ojib, oropqCHie,
MyKa; — s, xpyA^, xpy~
/^bi; — ful, npHHHHaio-
miS 6oJib, npncKop6-
Hbi8, oropiHxejibHbifij
a — ful death, yatac-
Haa CMepxbj — fully,
CT. npncKopSieM'b.
paint, KpacKa, pyMaHbi;
to — , EpacHXb, nncaxb
KpacKaMH, . pyMaHHXb,
H3o6pa5Kaxb,on^CbiBaxb}
— ing, mHBonncb.
pair, napa, nexa.
palace, sBopei^'b.
palanquin , naaaeRBHii,
HOCnjTKH.
pale, 6ji'fe/i;Hbifi; — blue,
rojiy6ofi, CBixjioCHHifi.
Palestine, IlajecxHHa.
palfrey, napa^Haa hjh
;^aMCKaa Jioniasb.
pallet, Hopbi, KpoBaxKa.
palm, Jia;^0Hb; — oil, najib
MOBoe Macjo.
pamphlet , naM^^exii ,
Spomiopa.
pan , npOXHECHb, CKOBO-
po;i;a.
pane, okohboc ctckjio.
panel, nauejib, «BJieBRa.
pant, saftMxaxbca.
paper, 6yMara,B'£A0M0cxb,
rasexa, OyMaaiKa ; to
put in — s, KJiacxb bi>
6yMaffiBH, saBHBaxb.
papist, nacncxi.
parade, BbicxaB.aaxb ea
noKast.
parallel, napajuiejibHufi.
paraphrase, nepna-paaa,
nepH*pa3Hci..
parcel, CBasKa, yseji-B, \
naKCXTj.
parched, HcxoMjtenHwB,
H3coxmifi.
pardon, npomeaie; to — ,
npomaxb, noMHJOBaxb.
parent, poAHTejib.
Paris, napHHCb
pacish, npHxoATj; upa-
xojcKiS; — ioner, npn-
xoffiaHKa.
I
— 40i —
park, napiCB.
parliament, napjiaMCHT-b;
— ary, napjaaiCHTCitiu.
parlor.parlour, rocTunaa.'
parochial, npuxoflCKifi.
parson, ^pHxo/^cKifi cbh-
meHHiiKt, nacTopt; —
age, flOMTj CBsmenHHKa.
part, 'laCTb, pOJIb, CTO-
pona; for my — , mto
;i;o MCHfl itacacTca; in
the early — of winter,
BTb Haiajit 3HMbij on
the— of, CO CTopoHM;
— s, cnocoSHOCTH , sa-
poBaHia; though I own
thy quicker — s, xoth
fl He OTBepraio tboch
Sojibmeii CBicxpoTBi; to
— , pasjiyiaTb, pas/i;*-
JiHTi., pascTaBaxhCflj to
— with, paacTauaTbCH
Ch; — ing, pascTaBa-
Hie; at — ing,iipomaacb;
— ]y, Hacxiio, OTiacTii.
partake, yiacTBOBaTb,
6UTb yHaCTHHKOM'b Bt
Hewb.
partial, nacTHWil, npH-
CTpacTHbiii; — ity, npn-
expacTie, CKJiOHHOCxt;
— ly, upHCxpacxHOj ox-
HacxH, Hacxiio.
particular, noflpoSHocxb;
ocoBeHHbiS , ocoOjii'I-
bhh; in — , — ly, Bt
ocoSeHHOcxii, ocoOeH-
HO, ocoGjhbo.
partisan, npiiBep5KeHeu,Tb,
noc-Tfi^OBaxejib.
partner, KOMnanioH'b,
yMaCXHHKTj BT. XOpPO-
BJit 5 to admit any
one — , npiiHiiMaxb ko-
ro BT. xoBapnmecxBO.
partook, cm. partake.
partridge, KypanaxKa.
party, oxpa/ii'b , oGuno-
cxBO, napxifl, cxopona,
Oco6a, jHr;e.
pass, npoxoAii, ymejiie,
y/i;apT> (paniipoiojjto — ,
uiiHOBaxb , npoxoAHTb,
npoliBJKaxb, nepexoflHXb,
nepeliSHcaxb, nepenpae
JiflTbcn, ripoucxoftHXb,
npoBOflnxb (BpeMa),H3-
flaBaxb (aaKOH-b), to —
. away, npoxoAnxb, npe-
xo/^iixb;to — for, cjiWTb,
noHiixaxbcaj to
on.
npoxoAHTb; to — one's
self for, Bb^asaxb ce-
5fl saj to— out, Buxo-
ji^mib] to — over, npo-
nycKaxb, nepenpaBJiaxb^
uepenpaBjiaxbCfl.
passage, nepexo^T., ne-
peliSfli. , nepenpaBa,
nepeBOST., npoxo/i;!.,
KOppWAOpi', MtCXO (BTj
KHHrll).
passenger, naccaffiHpi>.
passion, cxpacxb; — ate,
cxpacxHbiH, ropa'iiM}-
ately, ropaHO,CTpacxHO.
passive, HaccHBHbifi, He-
flliScxByiouj,ifi.
paSSOVer, nacxa.
passport, nacnopxtjBH^i'b,
past, npouie/i;uiee Bpeiia,
npoiueftiiice ; npome^mijl.
npouijibifi, MnHyBiuifi;
MHMo; CM. xaKffie pass,
pastime, saOaBa, ysecer
Jieide.
pastor , nacxopi) J na-
cxbipb; — al , nacxo-
pajTbHbifi, nacxymecitifi.
pasturage, nacxgnme.
pasture, nacxBa.
pasty, naaiTexrb.
pat, y3;o6Hbifl,yM'fecxHbiHjto
— ,norjiaa!HBaTb pyKOio.
Patagonian, naxaroHii.
patch, 3anjraxKa, uyui-
ita (na jrHin*),
patent, naxeHxt; npHBii-
Jieria.
paternal, oxi^oBCKifi, oxe-
HecKiil.
path, cxesa, nyxb.
patience, xepntnie.
patient, 6ojibHoS; xep-
ntjiHBbiM; — ly, xep-
nijiHBO.
patriarchal, naxpiapxajb-
Hbiil.
patrician, ^axpH^il1.
patriot, naxpioxi>; — ic,
naxpioTHiecidfi; — ism,
naxpioxHSMi., jiioSoBb
ktj oxeiecxBy.
patron, noitpoBHxejib, na-
xpoH7>; to — ize, noitpo-
BnxejTbcxBOBaxb.
Paul, ITaBeji'b; for Saint
— 's, RJia coSopa Cb.
ITaBJia.
pause, ocxaHOBKa; to—,
npiocxanaBjiHBaxbCfl,
noMOJiMaxb.
pave, MocxHXbj — ment,
MOCxoBan.
pavillion, najaxEa, na-
BIl.SbOH'fc.
paw, Jiana.
pawn, saKJiasbiBaxb, ox-
p,aEaxb BT. !tavM.&ji,'h.
pay, njiaxa, JKajiOBaHie;
to — , njaxHXb, sanjia-
xHxb, onasHBaxb (yBa-
jKCHie); to — a compli-
ment, CBHA^xejIbCXBO-
Baxb CBoe noHxeniej
to — attention, o6pa-
maxb BHHMaHie, bhh-
jiaxb, cjiymaxbj to — a
visit, /I.'feJiaXb BII3HXT>,
HaBtmaxb; to — full
dear, " /^opo^o nonja-
THXbca; to — off, Bbi-
flaxb cjitflycMoe atajO'
51
402 —
BBHie; to — one's re-
spects, CB0/l,iTe.1bCTEO-
BaTt cBoe noiTeHie;
to pay the penalty, npc-
TepntBaxb HaitasaHie,
nonjaTHTiiCfl.
pea, ropoxTb. ■
peace, Miipii , cnoKoii,
cnoKOiJCTBie, no.iiHn,ifl,
ynpasa CjiaroiHHiaj in
-T-, B-b MiipHoe Bpejffl;
— able, iinpuHu, th-
xifi; — ably, cuokouho;
— ful, MnpHBiu, Tnxiii,
cnoKOUHbifi; — officer,
nojiHu,eiicKifi 'jiihob-
HHKt.
peacll, nepcHKTj.
peak, BepxyiiiKa, Bcp-
inHHa, nuKTj.
Peak, niiK-b, ropncxaa
cxpaHaBt j^ep6iiLunp*,
H3o6njiyiomaa Mexaji-
JiaMH,MpaMOpOM'b, ajic-
CacTpoMt, KpiicTajja
MH U BaMt'iaTeJbHblMH
nemepaiin.
peal, BByK-b, BBOHt.
pear, rpyma.
pearls, JKeMHyr-B,
peasant, KpecTbannHt,
MyatHich; — ry, KpecTbJi-
He.
pebble, ro.iHU]'b_,KpeMeHb.
peculiar, cBoiicTBennbifi,
coficTEeBBBiii, ocoOea-
HbiSj — ity, CBoiicTBO,
ocoSenHoe cbouctbo,
ocoScHHOCTb; — ly,
OCOOCHHO.
pedagogue, nCAaror-b, na-
craBBiiKTb.
pedestal, no/i,Hoa<ie, nie-
ftecTaJHi.
pedimeDt, ^pohtoh'b, mn
Dei^-b.
peep, uporJiH;;biBaHie,
BsrjiflAij; to take a — ,
to — , Bbirjifl;];biBaTb,
rjiH/i.iTb yEpaji;itoio; to
— through, nporjifl;i;bi-
Baxb.
peer, pobhh, xoBapHin-b,
nepT^; paBHBiii, no;i,o5-
Hblfl.
pelting. npojiiiBHofi.
pen, nepo; — knife , ne-
po^nHHbiii HOsnKt.
penaljKapaxeJibHbiii, yro-
JiOBHbin; — ty, naKasa-
Hie; —settlement, ccbijib-
Hoe noce-ienie.
pence, cm. penny,
pencil, KncTb, i{iicxOHKa,
KapaHAaiuT^; — case^
KapaHsaiuHHK'b.
pendulum, MaaxHHK'b.
penetrate, npoHHB,axb,
npoxoftiixb.
penitent, Kaioii;ificfl.
penny, ueHen (2'|4Kon.),
;^eHbr^ ; loss of pence,
noxepa /^eHcrt.
pension, neacia; — er,
noJiyHaiouj,ift neHciio,
neacioaep^; gentle-
men—ers, cii. gentle-
man.
penthouse, aaBtcb.
penury, Gfi^aocxb, CKy;^-
Hocxb, city/i,ocxb, aysaa.
people, Hapo;i;Tb, jiioau;
to — , aaceaaxb.
pepper, ^epe^'b.
per, 3a; — annum, btj
rost.
perceive, ycMaxpnEaxb,
npnMtaaxb.
perceptible, npuMtxabiii.
peremptorily, ptmnTcib-
HO.
perfect, copepaieaabiti;
— ion,coBepuiencxBO,; —
ly, coBepmenao; I will
have itsaid— ly, htoOtj
Bbi ero saaJTH Enojia'fe
yAOBJiexBopHxejibBO .
perfidious, BtpojioMBbift.
perform, ■ coBepmaxb, iic-
iJMBaxbj to — a part,
nrpaxb pojib; — arice,
Bbinojiaeaie, RtMcxBie,
coanaeaie, upe3;cxaBJie-
Hie; — ^■er,ncno.iBHxejib,
coBepiuHxejib; to be an
excellont — er, oxjiuh-
ao nrpaxb.
perhaps, MOiKext 6biTb.
peril, onacBocxb; — ous,
onacBuu.
period, nepiost, Bpejia,
Koaea.'B; — -ical, nepio-
ftH^ecidil.
perish, Eorn6axb.
perjured, icjiaxBonpecTya-
HWS.
permanent, nocxoaaabifi.
permission, nosBOjeaie.
permit, ftosBoaaxb, fto-
nycicaxb.
pernicious, Epe/i;Bbifl, na-
ryOabifi.
perpetual, 6e3npepuB-
HblS.
perplexity, cMymeaie,
3axpy/i,aeHie.
perry, rpymeBKa.
persecute, npHxtcBaxb,
npecitAOBaxb.
persecution, roHeaie,
npExtcKeaie.
perseverance, neocjiaO-
aocxb, npnaciKaaie,
eXOUKOCXb, XBep/^ocxb,
HacxuiiaHBOCXb.
persevere, Swxb nocxoHH-
BO, HO iiSMfiaaxbca,
6bIXb yCXOiilHBblMTj BTj
aeiuTj, ycxoax'b btj leiu-b.
persevering , Hacxotiin-
BWll, cxoMKifi.
Persia, Ilepeia.
403
persist^ HactaHBaTt,,
yCTO/lTf. BTj HeilTi.
person, jhuo, oco6a, ne-
JIOB'feK'b, Ml HHOCTbj —
age, oco6a, Jini^o;— al,
jh'ihhH; —ally, in—,
JH'IHO,
persuade, y6*)KsaTb, yro-
BapHBftTb; to — any one
to the contrary, oxro-
BapHBaTb KOrO OTb
Hero.
persuasion, y6t)KAeHio,
Bibpa, peJiHria.
peruse, npo^irruBaTb.
pestilence, -^lyMa, mop-b,
MopoBaa a3Ba, aapasa.
pestilential, sapasiiTGjib-
hhS, qyMHbifi.
petard, noxap/^a.
Peter, nexp-b.
petition, npomeHie.
petrified; oKaMeH^abiii.
petticoat, io6Ka.
petty, JiajibiS, MejiKici.
phenomenon, aBJienie.
pfiilanthropist, -EHJiaH-
xponi).
Philip, OHJiMnnij.
philosopher, .tmioco't'b.
philosophic, — al, *hjio-
co*HqecKiS.
philosophy, tHjiocooia.
Phoenician, •X'HHHKiaHHUTb.
phrase, opasa.
physic, jreKapcxBO] — al,
«H3HiecKifi; — ian,
BpaHTb.
piano, piano-forte, *op-
ToniaHM,
Picardy, IlHKapsia.
pick, cofinpaxb; to — up,
noA^apaTb, no/i;HHMaTb;
to — one's selfupjBCKa-
KHSaXb.
Pict, ITaKT-b.
picture, KapxHHa, nop-
xpex-Bj to — , H3p6pa-
roaxb, npe;^cxaBJfHTb; —
sque, HtHBonHCHbiil.
pie, nnpOffiHoe.
piece, icycoKTj, nacxb,
MOHexa, pyiKbe, nyui-
ica, opy,'^ie, nieca, co-
•iHFiCHie, craxbH} a— of
artillery, nyiuKa, opy-
Aie; a — of copper,
Mt./i;Haa iionexa; a— of
wood, KycoKi. /^epcBa,
nojilbHO; — s of inde-
corum, HenpHJIHIHOCXH.
pierce, npoHsaxb, npoHPi-
ii;axb, npocBepjiHBaxb,
npoKajibiBaxb.
piercing, npoHSHxejibHMit.
piety, 6jiaroiecxie, hu-
SofflHOCXb.
pig, nopocenoK-b.
pigmy, nnrMei^HbiS, Ma-
jopocibiS.
pile, cxpoenie, KyHa,rpy-
ffa, rpoMa;i;a, wacca; to
— up, CKJiaflblBaXb B-B
Kyny.
pilgrim, naJiHrpHMt, 60-
roMOJiT., 6oroMOJiei];'b.
pill, iiHjiioia; — box, ko-
poSo'iKa ;i;jia nmiiojib.
pillage, rpaSestt, pacxn-
menie; to — , pacxn-
maxb, rpaSuxb.
pillar, cxojio-b, cTOMKa,
no;i;nopa,
pillow, nosyriJKa.
pilot, jrouiMaH'b.
pin, 6yjiaBKa, mnmibKa;
in merry — , b-b Bece-
jioMT. ;i;yx16; to — , npn-
rBasHmBaxb^ — cushion,
6yjiaB0HHaa nOAytQKa.
pinion, CBasbiBaxb KpbWba.
pink, po30Bbi8 uiBtx-b.
pious, 6jtaroHecxHBHM.
pipe, xpyoKa; to — , cbh-
cxaxb; — r, BOjrbiHiu;nK'b.
piqued af , btj nocaA* h^.
piracy, MopcitoH pasSoft,
MopcKoe pasfiofinHie-
CXBO .
pirate-ship, pasSofiHHibe
cyAHO.
Pisa, Ilnsa.
pistol, nucxojiext.
pistole, nncxojia (Monexa,
5 py6. cep.).
pit, HMa.
pitch, cxencHb, BHCoxa,
BbiiuHHa; to — , 6po-
caxb, KHAaxb; — ed
battle, npaBBJibBbiS 6oJi.
piteous, )Ka.iocxHMM; — ly,
HtaJOCXHO.
pitiful, cocxpaAaxejibHbift.
pitiless, 6e3iKajiocxHbiM.
pittance, so-ta, majrocxb.
pity, atajiocxb, coJKajrft-
Hie) to take — , C3Ka-
jiHxbca; what a —
it is, KaKT. ffiajb! to — ,
atajilixb.
Pius, ms.
placard, (npnSHxoe) oQ-b-
HBjreHie.
place, Mifecxo; — of .land-
ing, npHCxaHb; to take
— , npoHcxoAHXb, cjy-
naxbca; to — , no-
M-femaxb, Kjacxb, cxa-
BHXb) to — a check, no-
jiaraxb npeA'feJTM; to —
around the neck^ na-
AlbBaxb Ha meio; to —
at any one's disposal,
npeAOCxaBJiaxb Bt m>e
jm6o pacnopaffieHie; to
— confidence in any one
AOB^paxb KOMy, OKasbi-
aaxb KOJiy AOBtpiej to
— in the power, noKO-
paxb} to — on anyone's
head,HaA'feBaxb naroJio-
By; to— one-s,seIf, cxa-
HOBHXbca,cxaxb; to — on
the throne — ,B03B0AHXb
— 404 —
Ha npecTO^Tb; she — d
herself at their head,
OHa crajia bt. ro^OB'fe
HXX.
placid, THxifi.
plague, lysia, MOpij, 3a-
pasa; to — , MyiiiTb,
flOcaatflaTb, Ha/;o'bAaTb.
plaid, moxaaHftCKifi njiam-B.
plain, paBHHua; npocToM,
flCHbifi- — , — ly, acHO,
plaintive, TRajioOabm, njia-
MeBHuS.
plan, naaHt, HaHepxaHie,
ycTpoiiCTBO, npBAnpiH-
Tie, HaMljpeHie; to — ,
SaMLIUIJTflTb , pasMbi-
niJiaTb , pacnojaraTb ,
HauepTbiBaTb.
plane, njiocKocTb.
planet, njianeTa.
plank, ;i;ocKa.
plant, pacT*Hie ; to — ,
caataxb , yqpeatsaTb ;
— er, njtaHTaxop'b.
plaster, ^eMeHT■I), sanas-
Ka, rHnci.
plate, TapejiKa, cepeSpa-
Haa nocysa, M'£/i;Haa
ffOCKa ; — glass , sep-
ItajIbHOe HJH II1JIH40-
BaHHOe CTCKJIO.
platform, njiaT*opMa, no-
MOCTX).
plausible, ^paB/^o^o/^o6•
PlautiuS, HjaBTift.
play, Hrpa, 3a6aBa, ko
Meflifl, niecaj to — , h-
rpaxb, npeRcxaBJiaxb;
to — a trick, cbwrpaxb
lUxyKy; to — off a joke,
Cb Hxpaxb myxKyj —
mate, noflpyra.
plead, oxsbiBaxbCH.
pleasant, npiaxnwS, 3a-
OaBHwfi; — ly, uiyxH,
BT. luyxKy; — ry, uiyx-
Ka, nacMtiuKa.
please, HpaBnxbci, 6MXb
yroflHbiMXi, nsBOJiiixbj
xoxIjXb; — to sit down,
nojKajiyucxa caftHxecb;
if you — ecjiH BaM'b
y^o;^HO, noaca.iiyficxa ;
will you — to cut it in
two, noHtajyficxa pas-
ptjKbxe axo nonojiaM'b.
pleased, ;i;oBOJibHbifi; to
be — , QjaroBOJinxb.
pleasing, npiaxHHit; a —
anecdote, PiHxepecHbiM
aHeK;^ox'B.
pleasure, yAOBOjibcxBie,
npoH3BO.li.; a man of
— , 'le.iOBtK'b HtajKfly-
miil y/i,0B0JibcxBii]:; at
— , no SjiaroycMOxpt-
Hiio}-- grounds, napKx>,
ry.ib6Hme, mI&cxo npo-
ryjiKH.
plebeian, njie6eHCKii'i,npo-
cxoHapo;i;Hbm.
pledge, sajrorrb, saKjia^;!.,
nopyKa, sajioatHHK'b.
plentiful , nsoSnjibHbiH;
— ly, H305HJIbH0, MHO-
ro, f^0CTaxo'lHO.
plenty, nsoSHJile , b;i;o-
BOJib; — of, ;^0B0JIbH0.
plight, oSpenaxb.
plot, 3arobopb ; to — ,
croBapnBaxbca.
plough, njiyrnb; to — , iia-
xaxb, pascfeitaxb (boj;-
Hbl).
pluck, ffepraaie; to give
a little, — , noRepnyxb;
to — , ^epraxb, psaxb,
Apaxb.
plum, cjiHBa; cjiHBHbiii,
nSlOMHblfi, KOpiIHOIHblS.
plumber, cBnai^oBbixii
A'feJi'b Macxep-b.
plump, 6yxHyxbCH,mjien-
HyxbCH, mMHKHyxbca.
plunder, rpaSeat-b, RoSbi-
la} to — , rpaSnxb, o-
rpa6nxbj — er, rpa6n-
xejibj — ing, rpaQeJKT.,
noxnmeHie; — ing in-
cursion, pasCoHHHHS-
CKiM Ha6'£n>.
plunge, Spocaxbca, no-
rpyjKaxbCH , 6apax-
xaxbca.
Plymouth, HjiHMyx'B.
pocket, KapMaH-b; Kap-
MaHHbiH} — bookj 6y-
irafflHHKt.
poem, uoaua, cxhxoxbo-
peHie.
poet, cx0xoxBope^'b, no-
BTb; — ical, noBXHie-
CKift; — ry, cxHXOXBop-
cxbo, no93ia, cxhxo-
xBopenie.
point, TOHKa, ocxpoKoue-
Hie, KOH^HK-b, nyHKXTj,
KOCa , HH3KiH MbICT> ,
pyM6'b,npeftMex'i>, i^tjib,
CBOHCXBO} the cardinal
— s, cxpaHH CBtxa) to
reduce to the — of
despair, ;^OBo;l;HXb noi-
XH J^o oxqaaHia; in —
of, BT. pa3cyHt;i;eHiH, bt.
oxHOUieain nero ; in
some — s, bxj h^koxo-
pwxTj oxHOinemax'b ;
to — out, nOKasuBaxb,
yicasbiBaxb na; to — to,
yKaswBaxb Ha; — ed,
OCXpOKOHeiHblS.
poison, Hft-b) to—, oxpa-
Bjiaxb.
poker, KO'iepra.
polar, nojiapHbifi.
pole, iiojuocb, KOJn>,
mecxT., Btxa ; — ax,
CepffMuii., aJueSapAa.
polemic, nojieunHecKiii.
405
police, no.irmia; — man,
nojiimeiicKiil hhhob-
HHKTj.
policy, nojiHTHKa, 6jaro-
paaywie.
Polish, nojibCKiM.
polish, jomHTb, nojTHpo-
BaXb, HHCTHTb, npOCBt-
maTbj o6pa30BaTb; to
— up, BHnoanpoBaTb.
polite, BtfflJIIIBHa, yiTH-
BbiS, TOHKiii, yTOHHen-
HLifi; — ness.y^THBOCTb,
Bl&HtJIHBOCTb.
political, noJiHTHiecKiM.
politician, nojiHrnKi..
politics, noJiHTHita.
polity, iipaBjeHie,ycTpoM-
CTBO.
Polynesia, IIojiHHesiH.
pommel, cfe^eJibHaa lUH-
lUKa, esecHaa rojiOBKa.
pomp, nblUIHOCTb, BejTH-
KOJi'bnie; — al, nbiuu-
HBlfi.
pond, npyAt.
ponder, o6AyMbiBaTb.
pontiff, nepBOcoameH-
HHicb, liana PhmCkIh.
pood, nyA-b.
poodle, ny«ejib.
pool, jryssa.
poor, StAHbifi, njioxoH.
pop up, BMCICaiCHBaTb,
BRpyri), BwcoBbiBaTbca.
pope, nana; — ry, Phu-
CKO-KaTOJHHecKaa B'fepa.
popish, nanncTCKifi.
popular, nonyjiapHwfi; —
ity, nonyjiapHOCTb.
population^ napoftonace-
.lenie.
populous, MHOroJiOAHbiS.
pore over, cHfttxb Ha^-b,
pMTbCa BTj.
pork, CBHHDHa.
porphyry, ooptHpij.
porringer, ^aiuKa, MHCKa.
port, nopT-b; — al, nop-
TajiTj, rjiaBHbiS bxcatj",
— hole, nymeMHbifl
nopT-B; — wine, nopTij-
bbShii.
porter, nopTeptjHocHjb-
portion, lacTb, aojih, nop-
^ia, HaA*.ai>-
portrait, nopxpeTt.
Portugal, ITopxyrajiia.
Portuguese , nopxyra-
jrei^T..
position, nojioffienie, iit-
cxo, nosHi^ia, cocxoa-
Hie.
positive, nojioatHxejibHHB;
— ly, noJiO!KHTej;bHO,
Hacxoaxe^ibHo; most —
ly, ptmnxejibHO,
possess, HM'fexb, BJiaA'fexb,
oSjiaAaxh; to be — ed of,
BjiaA^Tb HtMij; to be —
ed -with, 6']6cH0Baxbca3
— ion, BjiaAtHie; to
take — ion, saBJtas'fi-
Baxbj — or, BJtaAl&xejib,
BjaAtJiei^b.
possest, CM. possess.
possibility, BosMoatHocxb.
possible, B03M0!KHbiii5 as
dear as — , KaKTb mojk-
HO AopoHce; — bly, no
B03M0}feH0CXH, MOHteXl,
6bixb.
post, cxoaSi., cxojShk'b,
xymda, Mtcxo, noixa;
noHTOBbiS; to ride — ,
CM. ride ; to — , cxa-
BHTb, pascxaBJiaxbj to
— down, yjiiaxbca; —
age, B'fecoBbia HJiH nop-
TOBbia ACHbfH; — boy,
aM^^HK'b; — house^ no-
qxoBoS ABop-b; — illion,
noixaJtioHt, aMn^HKtj —
office, noixoBoe atj^ou-
cxBO, no'iraMTrb, no-
HxoBaa KOHTopa.
posterity, hoxomcxbo, no-
XOMKH.
postern, saAHaa A^epb;
saAHifi.
posture, ocaHita, nojioffie-
nie xlfejia, noaaxypa.
pot, ropmoK'b.
potato, KapxofCJib^ Kap-
T04iejIbHMM.
potent, MorymecxBeHHbiM,
CH.!ibHbin; — ate, noxen-
xaxii, BJiacTHxejib, BJia-
CXejIHHT,. .
pouch, KapjiaH'b, M'femoK'i.,
cyjiKa.
pounce, xpecKT,, yAapt.
pound, synxi., «yHxi.
cxepjiKHn); 24 and 31
— ers, 24-x'i> h 31 syn-
TOBblX-B.
pour, JIHTb, HBJIHBaxb,
pasJiHBaxb, JiHxbca; to
— in upon, Spocaxbca,
KHAaxbca, uaxjibiHyxb
Ha Koro, nycKaxb na
Koro Hxo; to— out, Ha-
jtHBaxb.
poverty, SibAHocxb.
powder, nopoxi.) — plot,
nopoxoBofi sarOBOp-B,
power , MorymecxBO
BJiacxb, CHJia, MOHb
cnoco6HOCxb; the — s
Corn; the — of music
CHJia A*ScxBia MysuKH
— ful, MorymecxBen-
HblH, CHJIbHbiS, 3flOpO-
BWS, nJIOXHblfi.
practicable, HcnojiHHMbifi_,
BOBMOfflHuH.
practical, npaKXH^ecKia;
— ly, npaKXKiecKH.
practice, npaKXHKa, ua-
BbiK-b 5 ynoxpe6jieHie,
oSbiKHOBeHie, o6pa3i.
AliiicTBia, nocxynoK-b)
/j06
as is their general — ,
EaKTi 9T0 y HHXT3 o6-
meynoTpeSHTCJibHO; to
be in the — , HutTb
oCHKHOBeHie.
practise, upaitTUKOBaTb,
ynpaiKHaTbCfl btj leMt,
/^'feJaTI, , coftlfeJiwBaTb,
ynoTpeSjiaTb.
prairie, cxenb.
praise, xBajia^ to — , xBa-
JDTb.
prance, CTaxb na /;bi6bi,
HBaHHTbCfl.
prank, npoKasa.
pray, no/Kajyilcxa, npo-
luy Bact; to — , mo-
JIHTbCH, npOCHTb^ MO-
jiHXb; to— on, npofto.i-
jKaxb MO-inxbcaj — er,
MOJinxBa; to say one's
— ers, MOJiHXbCfl ; —
ing, MOJieHie.
preach, nponoBtAMBaxb;
— er, nponoBt/i.HHK'b.
precaution, npesocxopoa-
HOCXb.
precede, npeamecxBOBaxb;
a few minutes preced-
ing, HtCKOJIbKO MHHyXX.
nepeji,!^ x^Mt; — nee,
npenMymecxBO, nepBCH-
CXBO.
precept, HacxaB.ieHie,npa-
BBJio ; — or, HacxaB-
HHKT. .
precious, AparoutHHufi.
precipice , cxpejiHHHa,
nponacxb.
precipitate, c6pacbiBaxb,
Hii3BepraTb, ycKopaxb;
— ly, onpOMexiHBO.
precipitation, xoponjiH-
BOCXb, DOCntUIHOCXb,
CKopocxb, cxpeMHxejib-
HOCXb.
precipitous , Epyxoii,
cxpeiiHncxLiH.
precisely, xoHHo, nmeHHo.
precision, xohhocxb.
predecessor, npeAiuecT-
BeHHHEt, npe/i,M']&cx-
HHKTi.
predetermination, npes-
nojioateiiie.
predict, npe^CKasbiBaxb;
— ion, npe/i;eKa3aHie.
predominance, nepcBtct,
npeBocxoACXBO, npe-
ofijiaAaHie.
predominant, nepBen-
cxByiomiii, npeo6jia;i;aio-
predominate, nepBeacxBO-
Baxb, npeoSjta^axb.
preeminence, npeBocxoA-
cxBO, npeHjjymecxBo.
prefect, npeoeKxt.
prefer, npe/i,noHiixaxb; —
ence, npefl;noixeHie; in
— ence, npe/^nonxaxejib-
Ho; — ment, npoHs-
BO,a;cxBO.
prejudice, npe^pascy-
AOK-b.
prematurely, npeaiAeBpe-
JieHHO.
preparation, nparoxoBjie-
Hie.
prepare, npuroxoBJtaxb,
— 0.3} — d, roxoBbifi.
preponderance, cepeBtct.
prepossessing, npHBjreKa-
xejibHbiB, npiaxHbiil.
prerogative, npaso npe-
nmymecTBa, npenwy-
mecTBCHHoe npaBO.
Presbyterian, npecBHxe-
piaHHHx; npecBHxepi-
aHCKifij KOHCHCXOpiflJTb-
HW§) — ism, npecBii-
xepiaHiicMTj.
prescribe, npe,!;nHCbiBaxb,
prescription, peaenx-b.
presence, npucyxcxBie,
co5paHie, oGinecxBO;
CbixHOCXb ; entering
his — , Bxo;i;a k-b HeMy.
present, no/iiapoK'b, Ha-
cxoamee spesia) npa-
cyxcxByMmift, nacxoa
miS, HbiH'femHbiS, xe-
nepeiuHiit} as a—, b'b
noAapoKt) at — , xe-
nepbj for the—, bt.
xy MHHyxy; to be—,
npncyxcxBOBaxb ; to — ,
npe^cxaBjaxb, /^apnxb,
. noRHOCHXb, no3;aBaxb ;
to — one's compli-
ments, Kjianaxbca; to—
one's self, aBjiaxbca;
to — prayers, bo3cm-
aaxb M0.iHXBbi5 — ation,
npe/;cxaB.ieHie ; he
gave him the — ation
to a living, oht. nojs,-
Hecb ejiy HasHaqenie
na ;i:yxoBHoe m^cxo; —
]y, xoxiacb, ceSqacb,
xenepb.
preservation, coxpaHenie.
preserve, oxpanaxb, o6e-
peraxb,coxpaHaxb; — r,
xpaHHxejib, coxpaHH-
xejb.
preside, ^pe;^c'b;^aTeJn,-
cxBOBaxb; Presidency,
^pe3HAeHxcxB0,^pe/^C'fe-
Aaxe^ibcxBO, cy^eSHbiS
OKpyrxi npect^axejia
btj Bocxo'jhou HH;^iH;
— nt, npeflc'h;i;axejib,
npe3H,3;eHX'b.
press, neiaxb, neiara-
nie, KHiironeiaxaHie;
to issue from the — ,
Bbixo/i;nxb HS-b nenaTH;
to — , npnatHjiaxb, xtc-
HHXb, npnHyffl/(axb,yro-
BapuBaxb, yHpamncaxb;
to— hard on , ciijbHO
ycxpeMJiflCbCH na; she
— ed the inquiry, ona
— 407 -
i
ynpamnBaja OTBtqart
Ha Bonpocb; — ure,
/^aBKa, Tlicnoxa.
prest, CM. press,
presume, ocM'tJuiBaTbCH,
flepaarb.
presumption, npe;i;noJio-
JKGHie.
pretence, npe3;jor'i>; on —
of, no/1,1. Bn/;oM'b_, no;!;^
npe/!,jroro3n).
pretend , nMt,Tb npHxa-
sanie na hto, npe/i;-
CTaBJHTbj rOBOpilTb,
npHTBopHTbca; — er,
npeTeHj^CHTt.
pretension, npuTasanie,
npexeHsia.
pretext, upcAJion>.
pretty, upacnsbiS, MH-
Jibiiij ;i;OBOJibHO.
prevail, 0/i;epHtHBaTb Bepxt,
rocno/i,CTBOBaTb, iipe-
o5jiaRaTb;but all would
not — , HO 9T0 HHHero
He noMorjio; disputes
have been and still—,
6biJin cnopbi h ji^-bjio
eme He plimeno.
prevalence, rocno^cTBo-
EaHie.
prevalent, rocno/i;cTByio-
miu; to be — , rocnoR-
CTBOBaTb, npeoGjiaRaTb.
prevent, upenaTCTBOBaxb,
utmaxb, 3a;^ep5K^Baxb,
npe/i;ynpea!/\aTb, oxBpa-
maxb.
previous, npe^imecxByio-
mifi, npe;^Bapiixejib-
HbiHj — to, npeffi/i;e; —
ly, npe)Kfte , nepe/^xj
T'fiMX).
prey, RoSbiia; beast of—,
XHmHblS BBtpb.
price, i^*Ha; — less, 6e3-
I^'fiHHuS, Heoi^tHeHHuil.
prick up, HasacxpnEaxb
(yiun).
pride, rop;^ocTb, yecxo-
jiiouie.
priest, atpei;^, CBnmeH-
hhktj; — hood, CBH-
ii],eHHHMecKoe SBaHie,
nyxoBeHCXBo; — ly,
CBflmeHHH'^ieCKiH.
prime, i^BtxX), n.Blixymee
cocxoHHie; nepBHii,Jiyi-
mifl.
prince, rocy/i;apb,npHHii,T>,
KHH3b; — ly, n,apcKiM,
EHHHteCKiftj — ss, npHH-
ij,ecca, KHHrHHH ; — ss
royal, KopoJieBHa.
principal, raaPHbifi; — ly,
npeHjiymecxBeHHO.
principle, Hanajio, npnH-
i](Hn'B, npaBHJio, no5y-
AHxeJibHaa npiiqnHa.
print, ne^axb; to — , ne-
laxaxb.
prioress, HacxoaxejibHHua.
prison, xiopbMa, xeMHHu;a;
— er, nJitHHUKx., 3a-
KJItOMCHHblS BTj XlOpb-
Mt, nOAcyAKMbiS; — er
of war, BoeHHonjitH-
HbiS; to take — er,B3flxb
btj njitn't.
prithee, (coKp. I pray
thee), npomy xeSa, no-
H?ajiyficxa.
private, paROBoft ; ye^H-
HeHHbiH, lacxHbiii; —
ly, xafiHO, Ha e;^uH'b,
lacxHO, npHBaxHO; —
er, itanepij, npnBaxHpX),
KanepcKoe cy3;H0.
privilege, npHBMeria.
privy, xailHbiil, qacxHbiM;
to be — to, BHaxb 0
Heu-h; Lord Privy Seal,
CM. Lord.
prize , npHBT., RoSbiia,
npeaia, Harpa;i;a, bm-
nrpbimt; to — , or;*-
HHBaxb, yBaataxb} —
fighter, KyjiaiHHii 6o-
ei^Tj (na npewiio).
probable, BtpoaxHbiS.
probably, BisponxHo.
procedure, nponsBOACXBo;
legal — , cy/!;onpon3Bo;i;-
CXBO.
proceed, nponcxo;i;Hxb oxt
Hero, npoHcxcKaxb est.
Hero, npHHHMaxbca 3a,
npncxynaxb kxj, npo-
ROJIJKaXb, E;^XH, nflXH
Ra.jbme, txaxb ;i;ajbme.
nepexoRHxb
to
through , npo'Bxaxb ;
he — ed to examine,
OHt Hanajib pascwaxpn-
Baxbj — ing, cy^eSHoe
npoH3B03,CTBo; this
mode of — ing, 9xoro
po/\a nyxemecxBOBaHie;
— s, Roxoflxj, R0X03;bi.
process, onepauia, cno-
COSTj, ^p0H3B0T^CXB0,
npoi];ecb; — ion, npo-
u,ecciH, xopjKecxBCHHoe
mecxie
proclaim, npoBosrjiamaxb,
oSx-aBJiaxb.
proclamation, o5Hapo/i;o-
Banie, o6'baBJieHie,npo-
KjaMai;ia.
procure, ROcxaBaxb, ;^o5bI-
Baxb, ROCxaBJiaxbj to —
the notice , ysocxoH-
saxbca BHHMBHia.
prodigy, rhbo, lyAo.
produce , nponsBeAenie;
to — ,npon3BOAHXb,pa!K-
/^axb, ^po^3pa)K;^axb,
npuHHHaxb, npe3,cxaB-
Jiaxb, npon3BOffHTb na
CB'fix'b, npes'BaBjaxb.
product, npon3Be/i,eHie,
npo/^yKXT); — ion, npo-
n3Be3;iBHie; — ive, npo-
— 408 —
HBifi; to be — ive of,
npoH3BOfl,HTi) , nopaat-
;i;aTb.
profess, flBJIHTb oC'BaB-
JTHTB, BBIKaSHBaTb, HC-
noBtflMBaTb , npnsHa-
BaTt; — ion, BBasie,
npHSBanie, Dpo*ecciH,
peMec;ro; — ional fuiic-
tion, saHHTie no ;i;oji5k-
HOCTH;— ional honours,
CTJIHliH HJIH noHecTH,
npHCBOeHHblK ;^0JI3K-
HOCTHMMT. jm^aMt J —
ional spirit, cocjiob-
hhA flyxi), cocjoBHoe
HyBCTBO 5 — or, npo-
*eccopi>.
profit, 6api>innb,npH6bMB;
to — , ycnieaTb, nojib-
' sOBaTbCfl Htjit, nojiy-
HUTb Bbiro/iy OTT. qero;
— able, BbiroAHbift.
profligacy, pasBpaT-bjpac-
nyTCTBO.
profound, raySoidft.
profuse, paCTOHHTejIbHblH}
— ]y, Bt H36bITK'h.
profusion, HSoSnjie, TO-
pOBaTOCTb.
prognosticate , npe^iBt-
maxb, npeffCKasbiBaTb.
progress, xoa^, mecTBie,
nepexoAtjnyTeuiecTBie,
nots^Ka, ycntxT), Te-
Henie ; the — of the
creature was by no
means impeded, 9to
HHCKoabKO He ocTano-
BHJIO 9Ty TBapbJ to
arrest their — ocxa-
HOBKTb HX-b.
prohibit, sanpen^axb; —
iOD, sanpemeHie • —
ory, sanpeTHxejbHbiS.
project, HaMipenie, npo-
eKT-b, ^pe;^^piHTie | to
— , yMbiniJiiiTb.
prolong, npoAOJiJKaTb.npo-
THrHBaXb, OTCpOHHBaXb.
promenade, ryjHHbe,npo-
ryjiKa.
prominent, Bbijfaion^iHCH,
6pocaIO^^ificfl b-b r aasa,
OTJIHHHblft.
promise, ofitmaHie; to — ,
o6tm,aTb, — ca; to —
well, oStmaTb MHOro
xopomaro.
promontory, mmcb, hocx.
promote, coocn'tinecTBO-
Baxb, npon3BO/i,HTb (b-b
HUU'h').
promotion, uponsBORCTBOj
noBBiiuenie.
prompt, npOBOpHblft, CKO-
pbiM, nocntiuHbifi; to — ,
no6y3K;i;aTb, noon^paxb,
BHyraaxb; — ]y, cKopo.
pronounce, nponsHocnxb,
oS'BHBjisxb; to — one's
blessing, SjiarocjiOB-
aaxB.
pronunciation,BbiroEopi.,
npoHSHOnieHJe.
proof, aoKasaxejiBCXBO.
prop, noflnnpaxb, no/^flep-
atuBaxb.
propel, ABHraxb.
propensity, naKJioHHocxB,
CKJOHHOCXb.
proper, npnjinqnbiS, yAo6-
HbiS, HaAJie<Kam;ifi; — ly,
co6cxBeHHO, HaAJeaca-
vnRM'h oSpaBOMT., npn-
jiHHHo; — ty, co6cxBeH-
Hocxb, HJiymecxBO) a
person of— ty, nejio-
BllKTb CB coexoHHiem'B.
prophecy, npoponecxBo,
npeABtn^anie.
prophesy, npopimaxb,
npe/^Btn^axb.
prophet, npopoKt; — ess,
npopoinna.
proportion, ^acxb, co-
pasMtpHOCXb; in — of,
copaBMtpHO Hemyj to — ,
copasMtpaxb; — ably,
copaSMtpHO, nponop-
^iaJIbHo; — ate, copas-
M-fipHbiiij — ately, copaa-
M'fepHO.
proposal, npeAJroasenie.
propose, npeAJraraxb.
proprietor, BJIaA■feJIe^l,,
XOSHHH'B.
propriety , npn^nqHOCxb
COOXBtXCXBeHHOCXb,
proscribe, ocysAaxb sa
nsFHaHie, npHHyacAaTb
Kt HsrHaHJio, noABep-
raxb Koro onaji'fe.
proscription, nsrHanie.
prose, nposa.
prosecute, npoAOJUKaxb
(Hanaxoe), npocnxb ex
cyA* Ha Koro, o6bh-
Haxb.
prospect, bhatj, HaAesAa.
prosper, cnocn^uiecxBO-
Baxb, ycatBaxb, 6jia-
roAencxBOBaxb; — ity,
npeycn'fiaHie, 6jraro-
AencxBie; — ous, ycn*ui-
HBift, 6jiaroycn*mHEift,
6jiaroAeHCxBeHHBiH ; —
ously, fijraroycntniHO.
protect, oxpaHaxB, 3a-
mna(axb; — ion, oxpa-
Henie, samnxa, noKpo-
BnxejibCXBOj — or, sa-
mHXHnifb, noKpoBHxejib,
npoxcKxop-b — oi'ate,
noKpoBHxejibCXBO, npaB-
jienie npoxeKxopa.
protest, npoxecTOBaxb;
— ant, npoxecxanx-B,
npoxecxanxcKifi.
proud, ropAW"; to be— of,
ropAiixbCH H'bJi'b
409 —
Prov. (Proverbs), iipiix-
HH COJIOMOHOBW.
prove, noBtpiiTb, ;i;OKa-
3UBaTb, OKaauBaxbca.
provide, caalJiKaTii, 3ana-
caTb, npnnacaTb, ro-
TOBHTb , npuroTaBJiH-
BaTb, npHCTpOHBaTb,
saBOflHTb, ftocTaBJiaxb;
to — for, npHCTpoHBaxb,
nemacb; — d, ecjiH
xojibKO, CB Ttwi qxo-
6w; — nt, GepeffijiHBbiS,
npe;i;ycMOxpHxeJibHbiu.
Providence, npoBi^tHiej
npoMHCjiij BoasiS.
providential, ox^ Bosia
npojibicjia; — impulse,
noSyjEAenie BHyuxeH-
Hoe npoMbic.iOM'B Bo-
ffiiHMt; — ly, npoMHC-
JlOWh BoffihlWB.
province, oSjiacxb, npo-
BHH^^H.
provincial, npoBHHi^iajtb-
HblH.
provision, sanacT., npo-
BHSifl, C'btCXHOll nppi-
nact, ysaKoneHie.
provoke, pa3/^paH!axb, bu-
sbinaxb.
prowess, xpaSpocxb, /^o•
SjiecTTj.-
proxy, no^THOMOHie, no-
B-fepeKHbiS ynojiHOMO-
■leHHwii.
prudence, ejaropasyine,
ocxopoatHOCTb.
prudent, 6jiaropa3yMHbin;
— ly, 6jiaropa3yMHO.
Prussian, npyccidH; —
blue, IjepjiHHCKaa jia-
sypb.
pry into , BbiBt^irbieaxb.
prytbee (coKp. I pray
thee), nponiy xeGa,
noffiajiyficxa.
psalm, ncajOMi,.
public, uy6;iHKa; ny6.aHq-
HbiS, BceHapoAHbiii, o5-
mecxBeHHbiM; a — house,
rocxHHHni],a, xpaKXiipia;
— ation, n3/i;aHie; — ly,
iiyOjHHHwS, nySjiHHHO.
publish, oSnapoftOBaTb,
ny6jiHK0Baxb, HS^asaxb.
puck, flOMOBoM.
pudding, nyAHHr-b.
puff, — of wind, nopbiBt,
Btxpa; to — , RyTb; to
— away, nycKaxb j^biwh.
pull, XHHyXbj xamHXb,
flepraxb, rpecxb} to —
aboard, BbiTacKHBaxb
Ha injiionKy ; to —
down,cxacKHBaxb, cjia-
MbiBaxb, noBajiHXbj to ~
from, BbiHHMaxb; to —
out, BblXaCKHBaTb, Bbl-
HiiJiaxb, BbirpeSaxb; to
— the bell SBOHHxb btj
KOJtOKOJIbMHK'I) ; to —
to pieces, pacxepsaxb.
pulp, WflKOXI),
pulpit, Kaeeftpa
pump, noMua; to — , Ka-
Haxb.
Punchinello, nojimuBHCjib,
iiiyT'b.
punctilious, MejroHHofi.
punish, nauasbiBaxb) —
ment, HaKasauie.
puny, itpome'iHbiM.
pupil, nnxoMeij('b, Bocnn-
XaHHHK'b.
puppet, KyifJia, Mapio-
nexKa.
purchase, nonynKa; to — ,
noisynaxb , npioSpt-
xaxb.
pure,incxwM; — ly, ihcxo,
e;i;HHCXBeHHO, TOJibKO.
puritan, nypHTanei^'b; —
ism.nypnxaHCKoe yjenle.
purl, ffiypiaxb, xeib cb
jKyp^aHieMt.
purple, 5arpaHHu;a, nop-
a>npa; 6arpaHbi8.
purpose, HaM-fepenie, npe;^-
MexTi, ij.'fijib; for the —
of, CB i^'fejiiio; on — ,Ha-
poHHO;to such — jCb xa-
KHM-B ycnixoM-B; to — ,
HaMtpeBaxbca, HMixb
HaMldpeHie; — lyjCT^ na-
MtpeHieM-B, napoMHO.
purse, KOuiejeK'B] a — of
gold, KoiiieaeK'B c'B30-
JIOXOMT).
pursue , npecjitsoBaxb,
rnaxbCfl sa, npo/i,oja!axb;
to — the advantage, boc-
nojibsoBaxbCH Bbiro;i;oHj
— ^^r, npecj'S/i;oBaxejb.
piysuit, npecjiiiAOBaHie,
saHaxia, xpy/5bi; to be
in — of. npecjili/iioBaxb,
rnaxbca, iicKaxb; they
were in full—, oiin
rnajiHCb 3«, hhmh bo
pecb onop-B.
push, xojireaxb; to -for-
ward, noronaxb; to —
off, 0XBa.inBaxb5 to —
open, xciKaa oxbo-
paxb; to — out, Bbixa^a-
KiiBaxb; to- to the ut-
most one's advantage
against, H3Bj[eKaKb bck)
BOSMOfflHyro nojibsy vi3t>
CBoero npeaocxo/iCTBa
naflXj.
pusillanimity , najioAy-
niie, poQitocTb.
puss, ivnca, icouiKa, Baai^ii.
put, cxannxb, cxaHOBHTb,
nojiaraxb, KJiacxb; to
— an end, to — a stop
to, nojioiKnxb KOHei^T.
HeMy, npeKpaxHXb hxo;
to — any one out of
the way, cSnBaxb ko-
to CB TOJiKy; (0 — a
question to any one,
52
— 410 ~
cnpainnBaTb y koto:
to — aside, oxKJiaflBi-
Baxb; to — back, bo3-
BpainaTbca; to — down,
jiHTb, ciiycKaTf.; to —
forth BbiKasHBaxb, 113-
^asaTb, ne^axaxb; to
— in, BCxaBJiHTb; to
— in any one's mind,
HanoMUHaxb Kowyj to
— in arms, BoopyjKaxb;
to — in readiness, npa-
roTOBjiHTb; to — in the
news-papers, Hanena-
Taxb Bi. rasexaxij) to
—into any one's hand,
no/i;aBaxb komj, Bbiji,a-
Baxb; to — into any
one s mind, BHyniaxb
KOMy; to — in or into
execution, npiiBOftnxb
B'b HcnoJiHenie; to — off,
oxKjiaftbiBgxb,OTjaraxb,
oxBajiHBaxb ; to — on,
Haft'SBaxb; to — one's
hand to one's heart,
npHKJiaftbTBaxb pyuy Kt
cepsn,y5 to — one's self
at the head of the
troops, npiiHHXb npe/i;-
BOftHXeJIbCTBO BOfiCKOMIbi
to — one's self in
motion, xporaxbca ci>
Mtcxa; to — one's self
on one's defence, cxa-
HOBHTbCfl BTj oSopOHH-
xejibHoe nojEoaieHie; to
— ont a boat, cny-
cxHXb niJiionKy; to —
out of question, fft-
jaXb HeB03JU0!KHbIM'b}
to — to, npnKJia/i,biBaxb,
3anparaxb;to — todeath,
yMepmBJiaxb, KasHuxb
CMepxiio; to — to flight,
o6panj(axb btj StrcxBo;
to — to the rout, pas-
oneaxb, nopaataxb; to
— to the sword, saKo-
jioxb, ySaxb, yMepm;-
BJiaxb, (BCfexii) nepe-
pyOnxb, nepeicoJioxf,;
to— up, ocxanaBjinBaxb-
ca; to — up a horse,
nocxaBHXb jioma^b (b-b
nocxoHJOMii /i,Bop'fe);to
— upon, HaHOCHXb (o-
CKopSjieHia); to — up
prayers, BoscwJiaxb
MOJIHXBbl.
puzzle, sara^Ka; it is a
— , 3X0 aenoHflXHo; to
— cnyxHBaxb, c6HBaxb
ch xojiKy.
0- ,
quadrangle, ^exbipeyro-ib'
HUKb.
quagmire, OojioxnaanoH-
Ba, Oojioxnaa.
quake, xpenexaxt-, xpa-
CXHCb.
flluakfir, KBaKep-b.
qualification, noxpeGnoe
ita'iecxBo, cnocoOnocxb.
qualify, A*Jiaxh, cno-
coOHbiMTj Kt neiiy,
Sanaxb npaBO.
quality, KaiecxBO, saaxb;
a man of — , SHaxHaa
oco6a.
quarrel, ccopa, enopt;
to — , ccopiixbCH, cno-
pHXb.
quarry, f^viHb, RoOwqa.
quarter, HexBepxTi, Keap-
xajiTj , Macxb , cxo-
pona, KBapxiipa, no-
• ma^a, ooMHJiOBaHie ;
— boat, SapKasij (ua
icyneMecKHX'b cy;^ax'b),
— deck, mKaHu;bij —
sessions, xpexHtcaq-
Hbia 3ac'fe/^aHia; — staff,
KopoxKaa najiKa, jy-
UHHU.
quay, HaQepejKHSia, npH-
cxaHb; — space, npo-
cxpancxBo, saHiiiiaeiroe
HaSepeaiHOK).
queen, KopojreBa.
quell, ocxaHaBjruBaxb, no-
flaBJiaxb, npcBOSMoraxb,
npeoAOJitBaxb, ynpo-
maxb.
quench, xyuiHTB, racnxB.
in quest of, Hxo6i)i OTH-
CKaXb.
question, BonpocB; the
passage in — , ii'fecxo 0
KoeMTi H/^ext ptib; to
address a
o6pa-
maxbca ch BonpocoM'bj
to — , cnpauiHBaxb.
quick, ffiiiBoii, 6bicxpuft;
Obicxpo, CKopo; be —
now, noxoponncfa no-
acajiyilcxa! npoBopH'fee!
uocKop'feJi! — ly, ffiHBO,
Obicxpo, CKopo.
quiet, cnoKoSHbifi, XH-
xiB; to — , ycnoKOHBaxb;
— ]y, cuoKOJiHo; — ness;
cnoKoiicxBie.
quit, ocxaBJaxb.
quite, coBcpuieHHo, co-
BCfiirb, X04H0.
quiver, KOJi'iam.; to — ,
xpenexaxb, ApoiKaxb,
quo', CM. quoth.
quotation, ccwjiKa ua 4X0,
i^nxaxT).
quote, UpHBOAHXb (m*-
cxa nsT. nncaxejiefi).
quoth, CRa3aj('b.
411 —
race,'nopoAa, noKOJ'fiHie,
6-feraHie B-b sanyciui,
CKaiita; the hiunaii — ,
'jejOB'b4Ccidi1 po;^'b; —
ground , ..pHCTajinme,
Str-b:
horse, 6t-
.10-
ryH-B, cKaKOBafl
uja;;b.
rack, nbiTOHHaa CKaMbH.
radiant, JiyiesapHwfi, cia-
lomiM.
radically, nepBOnaHa-ibao.
rage, apocrb, CBiiptnoCTb;
to — , CBHp'fenCTBOBaTb.
ragged,_o6opBaHHbiM, 060-
/ipaHHwS.
raging, CBaptncTBOBaHie.
rags, Tpanbe, Bexouib.
railing, ptuieTsa, ue-
pHJia.
railway, ateAtsnaa fto-
pora; — company, 06-
IUeCTB0^5KeJI'£3HbIX'b AO-
porij.
rain, AoatAb, AOffiAHK-t;
it will — AO>K/i,b iiofi-
Aex-b.
raise, noAHHaiarb, B03-
ABHraTb, BOSBblUJaTb,
BOSoyatA^Tb, npoiisBO-
flHTb, AOcxaBaTb (AeHb-
fh), HaOapaTb (boMcko,
ABHbru, cyMiiy); to —
to the throne, bosbo-
AHTb Ha npecTOJi'b; to
— up, nOAHHMaTb, ,B03
3HlUaTb.
raisins, nsioM-b.
rally, co6HpaTb u.ih coe-
AHHaxb cnoBa, co6h-
paxbCH.
Ralph, Payjib, Pyf^osh^'b
ram, 6apaH'b.
ramble, notssKa, nporyj-
Ka; to -, SpoAHTb, uia
xaTbca.
rampart, Baji^..
ran, cm. run.
ruijg, CM. ring.
range, pu/;^, ^l5^b(^op'b);
to — , cxpoHXb, cxoaxb
B'b pflAy, SpOAHTb.
rank, paAt) mepeHra,
paspaAXj, MHHi., KjiaocT),
SBanie, m*cto; to — ,
cxoaxb Ha pa^y, npw-
Miicjinxbca K'b lewy,
saHiniaxb M'fecxo.
rankle, pasApajKaxb,
ransom, BWKyn'bj to -- ,
BbiKyriaxb.
rap, cxyiaxb.
rapacity, xHmHH<iecxBo,
JKaAHOcxb KT) rpaQejKy.
rapid, Sbicxpoxoitt, no-
por-b; Sbicxpbifi; — ity,
Sbicrpoxa; — ly, fibicxpo,
uiuSko.
rapier, pannpa.
rare, p'SAitiii, cjiaBHbiM;
— ly, ptAKO.
rascal, fiesA'feJibHHK'b, mo-
LUeHHUK'^b.
rash, onpoMexiMBbifi, 6e3-
pascyAHbiii; to — , pa3-
AHpaxb KJibiKajiHj — ly,
onpoMex40BO, 6e3pa3-
cyftHo; — ness, onpoMex-
4MB0CXb
rat, Kpuca;— hole Kpbicba
Hopa.
rate, Mtpa, cxeneab, co-
pasM^pHaa Macxb, ao -
jia, u(1;Ha, cKopocxb,
noAaxb, najor-b; at any
— , no KpaSHeM si'fip'fi;
at the — of six miles,
no niecxH iiHJib.
rather, h tcKOJibKo, cKop*e,
jiyiuie.
ratify, noATBep^Aaxb, y-
TBepasAaAb, paxH4)HK0-
aaxb.
ratio, oxHOuieHie, npo-
nopt(ia; — nal, pa3yM-
HbiS, pai;ioHajibHbiS.
ratlins, Bbi6.iiHHKH (Be-
peBoiHbui cxyneHbKH).
rattle, xpeu^exita, cxy-
KOTHH, uiyM-b; to — ,
cxynaxb, SByqaxb, rpe-
Mixb, 6peH4axb.
ravage, pasopenie, ony-
cxomeHie; to — , pa30-
paxb, onycxomaxb;— r,
pa3opHxejib, onycxoQiH-
xejib.
rave at any one, pas-
cepAHXbca, BOsneroAO
Baxb Ha Koro,
raven, bopoh-b; — ous,
oSffiopjTHBbifi, Henacbix-
HblS.
ravine, oBparx..
ravish, noxamaxb, H3Ha-
CHjioaaxb; - er, noxnxH-
xejib.
raw, cbipoit, Hecu*jibiS,
HeonbixHbifi, HecBtfly-
miit.
ray, -jiyHt.
reach, o6jiacxb, npeA^JiTj,
Kpyr'b, A'feficTBia, ;io-
cxnjKCHie; above the
— of man, CBepx-b chjit.
lejiOB'lBiecKHX'b; to be
within the — , 6bixb
AOCxynHbiM%) to — , ao-
cxiiraxb, /i,0'fe3HcaTb, ao-
xoAHXb, npocTHpaxbca;
to— out, npoxHrHBaxb.
reaction, npoxaBOA^ft
cxBie, peaKi^ia.
read, Ha^HxaHKbiil; to — ,
qHxaxb; — er, iHxaxejib;
— ing,HxeHie, HannxaH-
HOCXb.
readily, oxotho, xoxHaci..
readiness , roxoBHocxb,
412
fitrjrocTb, cBo6oAHocTb*,
to put in — , nparoTOB-
JIHTb.
ready, fotobhS, cKoptiS;
he showed his — wit,
OHi. noitasaji'b qxo sa
ocxpHMt cjiOBu.eM'b y
Hero flifejo ue CTaneTi).
real, HacTomlS, hcthh-
HHft, fltttCTBHieJIbHtlfi;
ity, ;i,'feMCTBIlTeJIb -
HOCTbJ — ly, fl-feliCTBH-
TejibHo; — ize, ocyme-
CTBaaTb, HcnojHflxb,
npio6p'feTaTb, Bwpy-
naxb.
realm, i^apcxBo, Kopo-
JICBCXBO.
reap, ataxb.
reappear, ouaxb flBJiaxb-
ca; to — upon deck,
'IXO MOriD BblXOflHXb Ha
najiy6y; — ance, bxo-
pHHHoe noHBJienie; on
his— ance upon deck,
Kor^a 0H1. onaxb bu-
uiejii, Ha najiy6y.
rear,— guard, apieprap/i,'b,
sa^Hee boMcko; in the
— , Ha3a;;pi, noaaAH)
to scamper in the - ,ro-
HaxbCfl 3a,
reason, pasyin,, pascy-
ftoifb, npHiHHa; by —
of, no npUHMHtj in — ,
no cnpaBe/i,jiMBOCXH; —
able, 6jiaropa3yMHbiM;
— ableness, cnpaBe^-
jHBOCxb} — ably, cnpa-
BeftJIHBO.
rebel, MaxeaiHHK'b, 6yH-
TOBlUHKTjJ to , 6yH-
xoBaxbca; — lion, 6yHX'b,
MflxefflTj, BOSiuyujieHie.
reboand, oxckok-b.
rebuild, bhobb cxpoHxb,
nepecxpaHBaxb.
recantation, oTpe'ienie.
recede, oxcxynaxb.
receipt, ^pHxo;^'b,
xo/i.'b; to be in -
nojryqaxb, HMtxb
XOH'b.
receive, nojiyiaxb,
- of.
AO-
npH-
HiiMaxb; to — the sacra^
raent, npioSmaxbcji Cbh
XWXTb Tail HI).
recent, He/i;aBHiii5 HOBbifi;
— ly, He;i,aBH0.
reception, npuHaxie, npi-
esii).
recess, Hnma, ye^HHe-
nie, oAHHonecxBo.
re-christen, nepeitpecxuxb
recital , noBtcxBOBanie,
noBxopeHie.
recite, noBxopaxb; to—
prayers, 'iiixaxb mojhx-
Bbl.
reckless, dessaSoxjiuBbiM.
reckon, CMHxaxbj — ing,
cjex'b.
recognise, ysnaBaxb, npH-
saaBaxb.
recoil, no/i;aBaxbca Ha-
3a/i,T), naxnxbca.
recollect, noMHUxb,Bcno-
MHHaXb.
recollection, BocnoMnna-
Hie; from — , Ha ua-
jiaxb; to bring to one's
, HanOMHHUXb KOMy
0 ■iejit.
recommend, peKOMeH/^o-
Baxb, npHcoB'fexoBaxb.
recompense, Bosnarpaat-
Aaxb, Harpaac^axb.
reconcile, npuMHpaxb.
reconnoitring, pcKorHoc-
ItHpOBKa.
record, npoxoKOj^b; to — ,
saoHCbiBaxb hjh bbo-
ciixb bt) KHHry, pas-
cKasbisaxb,
recourse, npHStKHme; to
have — , npHStraxb.
recover, nojiyqaxb, o6pax-
HO, OXblCKHBaXb, BOpO-
XHXb, nonpaBjiaxb, h3-
i^tjiaxb, nonpaBJiaxbca,
onoMHHXbca; - y, bo3-
BpamcHie^ BHS/^opas-
■iHBaHie.
recreation, yBecejicHie,
ox;i,oxHOBeHie.
recruit, peKpyx-b.
rector, npaxoftCKiM CBa-
meHHHK'b.
red, KpacHbifi i^bIixTj;
KpacHbiM; — coat, Kpac-
HHM Kao'xaH'B, cojiflaxb;
— hot, pacKajieHHbiti.
redouble, y^BOHBaxb, ycy-
ry6jiaxb.
redress, y/;oBJiexBopeHie.
reduce, npH^oflaxb, aobo-
AHTb, npeBpamaxb, no-
Kopaxb, yKpomaxb, pas-
cxpoiiBaxb.
re-echo, ox;^aBaxb, ox;i;a-
Baxbca.
reed, xpOCXHHKTj.KaMbimT).
reek, AWMuxbca, ncna-
paxbca.
reenter, onaxb BxoAHXb.
reestablish, Boscxaao-
Bjaxb, nonpaBJiaxb; —
raent, BOscxanOBJieHie.
refectory, xpanesa, cxo-
jiOBaa.
refer, oxHocaxb, nepcAa-
Baxb, npeAocxaBJHTb.
refine, yxoH^axb, o6jia-
ropoHiHBaxb; — ment,
yxoHqenie , yxoHqen-
Hocxb, npanpaca.
reflect, oxpamaTb, oxcBt-
iHBaxb, pa3Mbiujjiaxb,
pascyjKftaxb, noflyiaaxb,
0 qeMt; —ion, pasMbi-
m.ieHie, pa3cya!/i,eHie,
o6cyatfleHie.
— 413
reform, npeo6pa30BaHie;
to — , npeoOpasoBbiBHTb-
— ation, upeoQpasoBa-
Hie, pe4opMai;ia5— ed,
• pe«opMaTCKifi ; — er,
npeoBpasoaaTejib, pe-
^opwaTopTb.
refrain, yAepjKuaaTbCH.
refresh, ocBi&>KaTb, npo-
xjiaat/;aTb} — raent, ot-
AOXHOBenie, OTAHx-b.
refuge, yOtJKHme; — e,
• BblXOAeU,!., yStffiHHKTb.
refusal, oxKasi..
refuse, OTpenrtu, SpaitiD;
to — , OTKaBblBaXb, OT-
KasbiBaTbCfl.
refute, onpoBepraxb.
regain, BHOBb AocTHraTb.
regaler, yroiMaxb, nOA-
iJHBaXb.
regalia, perajin, 3HaKii
i^apcKaro ^ocxoHHCXBa.
regard , yBaaceHie , no-
ixeHie; in — to, with —
to, KacaxeJibHo; to—,
noHHxaxb, npHHHMaxb
B-b coo6paiKeHie, o6pa-
maxb EHHiianie, csio-
xptxb Ha; to — as, npa-
jHHMaxb 3a, ciHxaxb
M'bM'b.
regent, percHxi., — xma,
npaBiixejib, — Hviu,a.
regiment, nojiKi,; — of
the line, jiHaeMHuS
llOJIIfb.
region, cxpana, o6jiacxb,
register, peecxpi,, cnn-
COKT).
regret, coajaitHie; to — ,
Btajrixb 0 qcM-b.
regular, npaBUJibHwa, pe-
ryjiapHbiS, HacxoHii;ifi,
6e3npepbiBHbiS, nocxo-
aHHHfi; — ity, npasHJib-
HOCXb; — ]y,npaBHJlbHO.
nocxoflHHO,KaHt/i,bi8pa3'B.
regulate, npnBOAnxb b^
nopaAOKTj, ycxpoHBaxbj
well — d, 6jiaroycxpoeH-
Hblft.
regulation, nocxaHosjie-
nie, y3aK0HeHie.
reign, i^apcxBO, i^apcxeo-
Banie; to — , i;apcxBO-
Baxb.
rein, noBOA^, ysAa; to —
up, yAepjKHBaxb.
reinforce, noAKp*njiflxb;
— ment, noAKptnjieHie.
reinstate, BoscxaHOBJiflxb.
reject, oxBepraxb , He
npHHHsiaxb.
rejoice, paAOBaxbca, Bc-
CeJIHXbCH.
rejoicing, Hs-bHBJieHie pa-
AOCXH.
rejoin, B03pafflaxb.
relate , pascKasMBaxb,
KacaxbCH, oxHOcnxbcaj
— d, poAcxBeHHbifi.
relation, oxHomeHie, poA-
CXBeHHHKlj, — ima.
relative, poAc'xeeHHHK'b,
— ima.
relax, oc;ia6jiaxb, c6aB-
jiax^.
relay, noAcxaBa, nepe-
release, ocBofioasAeuie; to
— , OCBOfioatA^Tbj Bbl-
nycKaxb,
relic, ocxaxoK-b.
relief, o6ji6i''jeHie, no-
Momb , BcnoMoaseHic,
noAanie noMoma.
relieve, oSjierqaxb, no-
Moraxb Kojuy, CMtnaxb.
religion, pejinria) the
Roman Catholic, — ,
PHMCKO-KaxoaH'iecKoe
HcnoB'feA^'Hie.
religious, pejiariosHbiS;
— offender, npecxyn-
KHK-b npOXHET) BtpblJ
— refugee, yOtwHHKi,
3a pejiHiiio; — ly, pe-
jiHriosHo; to keep a
secret — ly, ceaxo eo-
xpaHHTb xaBny,
relique, cm. relic
reluctance, Hepacnojio-
atenie, neoxoxa.
reluctantly, Heoxoxao,
rely, nojiaraxbca.
remain, ocxaBaxbca; —
der, ocxaxoKT), ocxajib-
Hoe; — ing, ocxaiomiM-
ca, ocxajibHoij; — s,
ocxaxKM, OCXaHKH.
remand, oxcbijiaxb.
remark, npuM^iaHie, sa-
MlfeHanie; to — , saMt-
laxb; — able, saialfeqa-
xBJibHbiS, AOcxonpHM-b-
^laxejibHbiM; — able for
its mines, 3. cbohmh
pyAHHKawH; — ably,
sau'feHaxejibHO, oco6eH-
HO.
remedy,jieKapcxBo,npoxH-
BOAlfeMcTByioinee cpeA-
cxbO; to — , noMoraxb,
HcnpaBjiaxb, ycxpanaxb.
remember, BocnoMnnaxb,
npiinoMHHaxb, noMHHXb.
remembrance, bocoomh-
Hanie, nanaxb.
remind, HanouHHaxb.
remit, ocjiaSjiaxt., ySas-
jiaxb, yincHbuiaxb, ocjia-
S^Baxb (bt, leiMTj).
remnant, ocxuxoki), Ky-
COKTj.
remonstrance, npsAcxaB-
jieHie, yBtmanie.
remorse, yrpbisenie co-
BtCXH.
remote, oxAajteaawSj ji^a^h-
Hifi.
remount, BHosb caAHTbca
(Ha JioiuaAb); to be —
— 414
— ed, CHOBa Cbitb Bep-
xomtj H.IH Ha .iIO^Ila/^H.
remove, oxflBHraxt, y^a-
JIHTb, yCXpaHHTb, CHIi-
Maxb, nepeHOCHTb, ne-
petsiKaxb.
remuneration , Bosna-
rpa)K;i;eHie, njiaxa.
rend, pasAHpaxb, pac-
xepsaxb.
render, oxAaBaxb, oKa-
SUBaXb, flijaXTj HtM-b,
renew, B03o6HOB.iaxb: —
al, B03o6HOBjieHie.
renown, cjaBa; to be ~
ed, 6bixb cjiaBHbiMT.,
SHaMeHnxbiMTj, nsBtcx-
HHHT), cjiabuxbca.
rent, apeB^a, n.iaxa sa
apcHay, AOxofl'b; cm.
TaKste to rend.
repair, ncnpaBjeaie, no-
quHKa; to keep in good
— , CM. Iteep; to—, hh-
HHXb, noapaB.iaxb, ox-
npaBJflXbCH.
repass, onaxb npoxo^nxb.
repast, KymaHbB, o6'feAi'>
CTOJIIj.
repay, oxajiannBaxb.
repeat, noBxopaxb, hh-
xaxb, npHBO^EXb (m*-
M-feCTO HS-b KHHra); —
ed, noBxopHxejibHbiSj
— edly, noBxopHxejib-
HO.
repel, oxpasaxb, ox5pa-
CHBaXb, OTXaJlKHBaTb.
repent, pacKaaBaxbca; —
ance, pacKaanie.
repetition, noBxopeHie.
reply, oxBtx-bj to—, ox-
Btiaxb.
report, xpecK-b, cjyx-b,
MOJIBa, OXrOJIOCOKT), BH-
cxptjn>; to—, pascKa-
3HBaxbj HSBtmaxb, ;^o-
HOCMXb, ;iOKjaAbiBaxb.
repose, cnoKoScxBie; to —
trust in any one, ao-
Btpaxb KOMy.
repossess a king, B03-
Bpaii;axb Kopojiio npe-
CXOJIT^,
reprehension, nopimaHie,
BbirOBOpi?.
represent, upeAcxaBjaxb;
— ation, npeACxaBJieHie;
— ative , npeAcxaBH-
xejb.
reprimand, puroBopi..
reproach, ynpeK-b, uape-
Kaaie, noHOiueHie, no-
3op-b; to — with, ynpe-
Kaxb B-b.
reproduce, BHOBb npona-
BOAHXb.
reproof, nonpeit'b.
reptile, npecMMKaiomeeca
ffiHBOXHOe,
republic, pecnyfijiHKa.
repudiate, oxpsKaxbca
OXT), pasBOAOxbca ct.
repulse, oxSnBaxb, ox-
xajiKHBaxb, oxpajKaxb.
reputable, noHxeEHbiii.
reputation, penyxai;iH,
cjaBa, qccxHoe hmh.
repute, cjiaBa; to bring
into — , c^tjaxb ns-
B-fecTHbiM-b; to — , no-
HHXaXb KOrO itMXj,
request, npocbSaj to-,
npocHXb.
require, Tpe5oBaxb; he
was — d, ohtj 6biJi'b
npHHya'ABHTb.
requisite, noTpe6HuM,
HyffiHwS.
requite, BosAaBaxb, ox-
njaHHsaxb.
rescue, ocBofioafACHie, H3-
6aBiieHiej to — , cna-
caxb,
reseat, btophuho noca-
AHTb (Ha npecTOJn.).
resemblance, cxoacxbo,
noAOfiie.
resemble, noxoRHXb na.
resembling, uoxoHifiHa.
resent, "jyBcxBOBaxb; —
ment, MCTHxejibHocxb,
s.ionaMaxcxBO, nawH-
xo3Jio6ie.
reserve, BosAepaaeie; to
— , cSeperaxb, coxpa-
Hflxb, npesocxaBjiaxb.
reside, npefiwBaxb, ffiHTb;
— nee, MicionpefibiBa-
Hie ^ npeSbiBaHie, Mt-
cxo npeSbiBaHia, sh-
Jiame, ffiHxejibcxBo; —
nt, npegbiBaiomifi, ajn-
Bymifi
resign, OTKasuBaxbca OXT,
4ero, ciaraxb ct. ce6a.
resist, npoxHBHXbca, co-
npoxHBJiflxbca; — ance,
conpoxHBJieHie; — less,
HenpeoAOJiHMbifi.
resolute, ptmaxejibHbia^
cMtjibia, oxBaatHbifi; —
]y, ptmnxejLbHO, CMtjto.
resolution, ptamxejib-
HOCXb, CMtjOCXb, Ha-
Mtpenie.
resolve, to be — d, pt-
uiaxbcfl, HaMtpeBaxbGH)
ptmaxb.
resort, npaStraxb kt.
MBMy, ornpaBjiaxbCH.
resound, oxAasaxbCH, pas-
AaBaxbCfl.
resource, npHStatame,
cpeACXBo; — s, AeHbra.
respect, no^xeHie, yBa-
JKeuie, oxHOineaie; with
— to, Bt OXHOEUeHiH K1>,
VTb pascyHASHlH nero,
OTHOCHxejibHO lero; to
— , noiHxaxb , ysa-
Hjaxb; — ability, no-
HxeHHocxb; — able, ao-
cxoflHufi yBaateaia, ojia-
— 415 —
ronpHCTofiHbifi; — able
looking, npnjiHiHbiS
Ha B^;^^^; — ful, hohth-
TCJibHbiM; — ing, otho-
cnxejibHO, KacaTCJibHo;
— ive , OTHOCHTejib-
HbiS; they retired to
their — ive chambers,
OHH yflajiHJiHCb Kaat^biS
btj cboS noKoS ; —
ively , OTHOCHTCJibHO,
ocoSeHHO.
rest, ocxaTOKi., ocTajib-
Hoe, ocxajibHaa nacTb,
/^py^ie, nponie , ox-
;i;bix'b, OT;i;oxHOBeHie;
the — of the money,
ocxajibHbia fl;eHbrH; to
— , noflinHpaxb, ocho-
BHBaTbCfl , OT/;bIXaTb,
/^aBaTb OTfloxnyxb; —
ing place, MlfeCTO ot-
SOXHOBeHifl, M. ynoKoe-
hIh; — less, 6e3noKoS-
HblH, HeyxoMHMbiJt, He-
ycbinHbiM.
Restoration, BoscTanoBjie-
Hie, pecTaBpai];ifl.
restore, BosBpamaTb, bos-
CXaHOBJiaTb.
restrain, yAepKHBaxb, bo3-
/^epatnBaxb, oSys^biBaxb.
yKpomaxb.
result, pesyjibxax-b, no-
cjitfliCXBie; to — , npo-
HcxoftHXb, npoHcxeKaxb.
resume, noBXopaxb, CHOBa
HaHHHaxb, bo3o6hob-
jiaxb,npoRO.ii5Kaxb(npejK-
HiS pascKasij).
retain, yRepatHBaxb, ftep-
Htaxb.
retake , Bsaxb HasanT.,
BHOBb ^aBjraft'fexb.
retinue, cBHxa.
retire, oxcxynaxb, y^a-
jiaxbca, yep,nHflXbca.
retook, cu. retake-
retreat, oxcxynjieHie, pe-
xnpaffa; to—, pexupo-
Baxbca, oxcxynaxb.
return, BOSBpamenie, B03-
Bpax-b, oxnjiaxa; to — ,
BOSBpan^axb, ox/\aBaxb,
oxBtnaxb, B03Bpan^axb-
ca; to — an answer, ^a-
Baxb oxBix^; to —
thanks , 6jiaro/i;apHxb;
to — to one's task, CHO-
Ba npHHHMaxbCH 3a
ff'feJIO.
Rev., Reverend, no^xen-
HbiM, npenoffo6HbiM.
reveal, oxitpwaaxb, 06-
HapyffiHBaxb; — ed, ox-
KpOBeHHWH.
reveller, nupoBaxejib.
revenge, luecxb, Minenie)
ful, MCXHXeJbHblS.
revenue, Aoxo^-b; —law,
xaMOHteHHbiS ycxaBT).
revere, "ixHxb, noinxaxb;
— nee, SjiaroroBtHie,
ooHHxaHie, noHxenie;
your — nee, Bame Ilpe-
nosoSie.
reverie, saAyM'iHBocxb.
reverse, BbiBopa^HBaxb.
revisit, BHOBb nocfemaxb
revival, B03o6HOB.iieHie,
BOScxaHOBJienie.
revive, oHCHBJiaxb , B03-
cxanoBJiaxb, bo3o6hob-
.laxb.
revoke, oxuibHaxb.
revolt, BOSMymenie,
OyHxij, B03cxaHie.
Revolution, peBOJironiifl,
nepeBopox'b.
revolve, o6pamaxbca; — r,
peBOJibBept; a — r af-
fair, ]i,1iJlO ptuiHMoe
jiHiub xojibKO peeojib-
BepaMH.
reward, narpaffa., Harpast-
Renie; to — , Harpaa:-
/i;axb.
rhetoric, paxopHKa, Kpac-
Hoptiie.
Rhine, FeHHi.
rhubarb, peseHb.
rhynie, pHOMa, cxhxh.
ribbon, Jienxa.
rice, pHCT..
rich,6oraxbiS,aparou;'fiH —
Hbiil, xyiHbiH, ffopoff-
HbiM; — es, SoraxcxBo;
— ly, Soraxo; — ly
does he deserve, oht.
BnojiH'l& sacjiyKHBaex-b.
Richard, Paxap^'b, Ph-
lap;];^.
rid, HsfiaBJiaxb-, to — get,
of, HsSaBJiaxbCfl.
riddle, 3a^a;^Ka.
ride, 'fisRa, Kaxanie; to
, -feSffHXb, 43AHXb
BepxoMx.; — for your
life , nycxHxe jo-
maftb BO secb onopij,
Hxo ecxb Ayxy! to —
about, I 06'b'fexaxb Bo-
Kpyn.; to — abroad,
pa3'b'b3a?axb BepxoMT>;
to — a race, cKaKaxb
BT. 3anycKii; to — away,
yljsJKaxb; to— by, npo-
ixaxb MHMo; to — off,
yfisssaxb) to — out, bw-
■BSJKaxb; to — over,
nepe'£3ataxb; to — post,
■fexaxb Ha noHxoBbixT.;
— r, BCaAHHKT,,
ridicule, nacM'SmKa; to
— any one, nacMt-
xaxbca naft-b k^mT),
ocMtaxb KOro.
ridiculous, cM^mHofi.
riding, BepxoBaa fiSAa;
— dress, cm. dress; —
hood, ;i;opo5KHbiS Ka-
nop-b; —whip, xjibicxi..
— 416 —
rifle, orpaGHTb; — man,
CTptJOKij, erepb.
rig, uiyTKa, npoKBSbi; to
run a — , npoKasHH-
HaTb, KypojiecHTb; —
ging, ocHacTKa, TaKe-
jraatTj.
right, npaBaa cxopona,
npaBaa pyKa, npaBOTa,
cnpaBeffjiHBocTb, npaB-
aa, npaBo; npaBbift,
cnpaBep;jiHBbiH, aacToa-
mifi, ncnpaBHbifi; Btp-
HO, cnpaBe^JHBO, npa-
Mo, oneHb; we are all
— , y Haci. Bce bi. hc-
npaBHOCTH; to — ship,
CXaBHTb KopaSjib iipH-
mo; to put to — s, no-
npaBjflTbj— ly, cnpaBe-
ftJIHBO.
rigid, cxporia.
rigorous, cypoBbnl, ate-
CTOKiM.
rill, pyieM, pyqeeKT).
ring, KOJibi^o, nepcTent;
to—, SBOHHTb, BBynaTb,
pa3/i;aBaTbca; to— again ,
OTftaBaxbca ; to — the
bell, SBOHlITb Ell ito-
.lOKOJibHUKt; — bolt,
pHMTj-SOJITIj.
riot, BOSMymenie, 5yHTT>,
MflTeiKT), napiuecTBO,
pacnyTCTBO.
ripe, sp-ficibiH, nocntjibiS,
roTOBbiB; to— n, cospt-
Baxb.
ripple, crpya, ps6b; to
— , CTpynxbca, no/;6n-
paxbca pa5bio.
rise, noBbiuieHie, bosbbi-
luenie, yBeaHHenie, 6jia-
roycntuiHOCTb; to — ,
BCTaBaTb, BOCXO/i;HTb,
B03BbimaTbCH, ^0/^HH-
MaxbCfl, yBejiHMHBaTb-
CH, ycHJiHBaxbCH, pac-
npocxpaHHXbca, pac-
uiapaxbCHj BOSHHKaxb,
BOscxaBaxb, dyuxosaxb-
ca; to — against, to —
upon, BOSCxaBaxb, 6yH-
xoBaxbca npoxHE-b; the
wind rose to a storm,
Btxepii ycH.iMca /i;o
6ypH.
risen, cm. rise.
rising, npHSbiBanie, b03-
BHuiCHie; — ground,
CM. ground.
risk, pHCKt, onacHOCxb,
no,T;BepraHie onacHO-
cxh; at any — , He cmo-
xpa HH HaKaKyK) onac-
Hocxb; to run the — ,
to — , pHCKOBaxb, noR-
Bepraxb onacHOcxn.
rite, o6pa3'b, ycxaBT. (i^ep-
KOBHblit).
ritual, ii;epKOBHbiH ycxaB^,
cjiyaieSHnK-B.
rival, conepHUKt.
rive, pasflfipaTb.
river, ptna ptHHoH; up
the— jBBcpxTj no p'feK'fe.
rivet, 3aKJienbiBaxb ; his
eyes were — ed, ero
r.iia3a 6biJiii ycxpeM.Te-
Hbi Ha.
rivulet, piisita.
road, flopora, nyxb; — side
cxopona Aoporn; —
stead, peilflt; — way,
6ojibiiiaa sopora.
roam, 6po;^Hxb, cxpan-
cTBOBaxb no.
roar, peBx,; — oflaughter,
rpoMitiil CM'fex'b, xo-
xox-b; to — , peBtxb;
to — out, sapeBtxb; the
— ing of the wind,
OyiiieBanie Btxpa,
roast, Htapnxb.
rob, orpaSnTbj — ber,
pasSofiHHK'B; — bery,
pa36oS, noKpaaja.
robe, ^apa;^H0e hjih na-
pa/i;Hoe njiaxbe; — de
cliambre, xajiaxt.
Robert, PoSepxT,.
Robin, PoSepxt.
rochet, cxHxapb.
rock, cKajia, yxecb, Ka-
MCHb} to — , Kaiaxb,
KOJiHxaxb , Kaqaxbca,
KOJibixaxbca; — beating,
y/i;apaK)u:(ifi oStj CKajiy;
— bound, OKpyffieHHbiS
CKaJiaMn; — y, yxecn-
CXMfi, KaMeHHCXUfi.
rod, npyx-B, jio3a, cxep-
HteHb, nixOKrb, xara.
rode, CM. ride.
roe, Kosyjifi, /^HKaa K03a.
Roger, Po5Kepi>.
rogue, DjiyXb, MOineHHHKT..
roll, 6yjiKa; to — • , Ba-
jiaxb, Kaxaxbca; to —
along, Kaxaxbca, Ka-
XHXbca; to — on, iiOKa-
XHXbca; to — up, no/i.'b-
t.xaxb; — er, naxoK'b,
BajiTj; — ing, bojihh-
cxHiij a high — ing
sea, cn.iibHO BO-unyio-
meeca wope; she came
— ing by, ona noKaxn-
Jiacb MHiao nact; she
went — ing over and
over, ona xaitTb h no-
Kaxnjiacb; — s , Jilixo-
niiCH, apxHBT., Kani^e-
Jiapia.
Roman, PnMJiaHnHij; Phm-
cKifij — catholic, pHM-
CKO-KaxOJTHHeCKili.
romantic, poManxmecKia.
Rome, PwMTb.
Romish, puMcno-KaxojiH-
necKiS.
roof, KpbllUa, KpOBJIH.
417
rooiu, utCTO, KOMHaxa,
noBOAT).
root, KopeHh; to — , bko-
peHHTb, yKOpeHHTb.
rope, Bepenna, cnacTb.
rose, po3a; cm. TaioKe
rise.
rot, THUTb, nOpXHTbCH.
rouge, pyMHHbi.
rough, HerjiaffKifi, mepo-
xoBaxbiB, rpyCbiM, hc-
BHA*JiaHHwfi, cypoBbifi,
GypHbiB; a — beard, pac-
xpenaHHaa 6opo|i;a; —
ness, uiepoxoBaTOCTb.
round, KpyrjibiM; BjOKpyri),
OKOJI05 to — , xoji,nTh
KpyroMTj; all — , Kpy-
roMt; all the country
— , no BceM CTpaHt;
all — the house, bo-
Kpyr-b Bcero /i;0Ma; —
about, KpyroM-b, oico-
jio; — about way, o5-
xoftT., Kpyr-b; — shoul-
dered , cyTy.Jbiii ; —
went the wheels , no-
KaTHJiHCb KOJieca,
rouse, OyRHTb, pasSyjK-
ftaxb, R036y}K3;aTb, 03-
roHJiTb (salbpa); to — to
arms, npiisbiBaTb ktb
opyjKiK),
rout, pasGnxie, nopajKe-
Hie; to — , pasCHBaxb,
nopamaxb.
route, ffopora , nyxb,
xpaKxt.
rove, CKHXaXbCH, fipOflHXb
— r, MopcKovi pa36ofi-
HRK-b, KOpcepij,
row, pflRt; to — , rpecTb,
H;^xH Ha rpeSjit; —
galley, rpeCHaa rajre-
pa; — ing, rpeSjia.
royal, KopojieecKiM, Diap-
ckIS; — ist, -poajiHcxTi,
npHBepfflenei^'b Kopojn;
— ty, KopojreBCKoe ^o-
CTOHHCXBO.
'rt, = art, cm. be.
rub, xepexb, xepexbcfl;
to — away, to — off,
cxHpaxb, oxxHpaxb; to
— down, oSxnpaxb.
rubbish, iiycopt, copi,
meSejib.
rude, rpyfibiS, des-bHCKy-
cxBeHHbift, npocxoftj —
ly, rpy6o, HeyqxHBO.
rue, Kancxbca , pacKan-
BaxbCfl, Hfajiixb, co-
acaji'fexb 0 H.
ruffian, sjo/^tfi, pasBofi-
HEK'b.
rugged; luepoxoBaxbifi ,
uiepomeHHbifl, nepoB-
HbiM, rpyfihiUjCypoBbifi.
ruin, pasBajiPiHa, noFH-
6ejtb, narySa, pasope-
Hie; to — , pascxpoH-
Baxb, pasopHXb, nory-
6jiaxb.
rule, npasHjio, rocno/i;-
cxBO , B,ianbiHecxB,o ,
Bjacxb, npaB'jrenie; to
— npaBHXb, ynpaB-
jiHXb, onpe/^tJiaxb, ro-
cnoflcxBOBaxbj — r, npa-
BHxeJIb,BJra/^'fixcJIb, Bsa-
CTHXejIb.
rum, poMTj) — cask, 6oHKa
cb poMOMt; — lighter,
JIHXXepX. CI. pOMOMTi.
rumble, rpeMtxb, Bop-
laxb, pasAaBaxbCH.
rumbling, cxyKi..
rummage, mapHXb.
rumour, wojiBa, oiyx-b.
run, StHtauie, Girt, xo/^'l.i
to — , 6'6raxb, xoJ^HXb;
to— about, Ctraxb no,
Ctraxb B3a;^'b h Bne-
pe/^'b; to — a mine, noff-
B03;HXb no/^Kont; to —
away, ySiraxb ; to —
back, KaxHXbCH naaaR'b
(0 nyuiKt); to — cold,
oxjra/i;'feBaxb;to — down,
XeHb BHHSt, JIOBHTS,
noSwaxb; to — off, yGt-
raxb; to — out, bh-
flBHraxbjto — risk, pn-
CKOBaxb, no/!;Bepraxb
onacHOCTH; to — round,
06'feraxb; to — straight
in, HanpaBHXbca npHMp-'
Ki, 6epery; to — upon
a rock, ctcxb na ita-
MCHb; to — with vio-
lence after, cxpeMn-
xejTbHO 6poca'rbCH sa;
he — s before his ma-
ster, OKI. 5'fe3KHT'B sne-
pe^H cBoero xosiiHHaj
she ran her fingers,
over the keys, oaa
npoOliSKaja noJbn;aMH
no KJiaBHmaM'b ; the
waves — very high,
BOJHbl OieHb BblCOKH,
runaway, 6'£rjieu,i., ^e-
sepxnpi..
rung, CM. ring,
rupture, paspbiB-b.
rural, cejibCKiS, nepeaeH-
CKitt.
rush, cxpeMJieaie, nopBiBi.;
to — , SpocaxbCfl, cxpe-
MHXbCH; to — in, Bpti-
BaxbCJi, naxjibiHyxb; to
— off, cmnGaxb; to —
up, BO'feiKaXb,
Russia, Poccia; — n, pyc-
cidfi.
rust, pTKasinnaj to — ,
pataB'Uxh, npHxynjaxb-
ca; — y, pwaBbiS, sa-
pjKaBtjrwfi.
rustic, itpecxbaHHHtjMy-
3KHK1. ; sepeBCHCKifi,
ceJbCKifr.
rut, KOJrea.
rye, poatb; pataHOH.
53
418 —
S.
'S — is.
sable, HepHuS.
sacerdotal, cBameHHHie-
CKifi.
sack, u'&moB'b.
sacrament , xaiiHCTBo ,
Tafiaa.
sacred, cBameHHufi.
sacrifice, ffiepxaa; to — ,
aepTBOBaTb.
sacrilegious, cBHToxaT-
CTBeHHblM.
sadj ne^ajibHbifi; — ly,
ndaabHO, oneHb.
saddle, ct^jto, ct^ejib-
Hbifi; — horse, Bepxo-
Baa Jiouiaflb}
r, ct-
ffejibHHKi) , C'fi;^e.lIbHbl2
. MacTept; — tree, jy-
Ka, apnaKij.
safe, HeBpe;^HMblfi, 0630-
nacHufi , Ha/i,efflHbiiJ ,
btj 6e3onacHocTH3 to
make — , oSeaonacHTb;
— guard , saiqiiTa ;
— ly, HafteiKHO; cno-
KofiHO , 6e3Bpe/i,Ho, ue-
Bpe;^HMO, btj coxpaH-
HOCTH, 6jiarono.'iyqHo;
— ty, oesonacHOCTbj a
place of — , QesonacHoe
M*CTO; in — ty, HCBpe-
ftHMO, BTj COXpaHHOCTH,
SjiaronojiyMHO; — ty
lainp,npeffoxpanHTe;ib-
Haa' Jiaiina
sagacious, ocTpoywHufi,
yUHblfl.
sagacity, ocTpoyMie.yMi.,
CMtTJIBBOCTb.
Sahara, Caxapa.
said, CM. say; ynoMany-
TbiS; it is — jFOBopaT-b;
he is — , roBopaxT. HTO
OH-b.
sail, napycb, cyAHo; —
ahoy, cyjiHO eoj^ho! to
— n3;xH nofli) napyca-
jin, njibixb, oxn.ibiBaxb,
noflnujiaxb napyca; to
— away, to — from,
OTDJibixb, ytixH Bt Mo-
pe; to — over, nepe-
njbiBaxb; — ing, njia-
Baeie, oxnjibixie, ox-
njibiBanie; — or, ma-
xpocb , MopexoAeE('b ,
MopaKrb.
Saint, cBaxoii.
sake, pa/l;0,';^JIa; for the
— of, fljia.
salad, cajiax-b.
sale, npo^affia.
, salient, Bbl;^aIOiL^iHCH.
sally, nopuB'bj nbijTbj to
— out, ^tJiaxb BbiJiasKy.
salmon, Jiucocb, ceura.
salt, cojib; cojieKwfi, co-
.laHoii; to — coJiHXb.
salubrity, 3/i,opoBocxb.
salutation, npHB'fexcxBie.
salute, npHhtTCxBOBaxb.
same, xoxt cajjuft, 0/1,0-
Haidfi. -
sample, oCpasiHKTjjnpoCa.
Samuel; CamyH.i'b.
sanctify, cBaxnxb, ocBa-
maxb.
sanction, yxBepatAeHie,
noflXBCpas^eHie; to — ,
yxBepffiftaxbj ycxaao-
BJiaxb.
sanctuary, cBaxajmme.
sand, necouT.; — bank,
necHaaaa 6aHKa; — stone,
neciaHaKt; — y, pu-
siM.
sandwich, caH/^BHM'b (jom-
xiiKi xojiOflHaro iiaca
jjeKfly AByJia KycKaiuH
xatGa ex, MacJiOMT,).
sang, CM. sing.
sanguinary , KpoBoataA-
HblSjJIIOXblfi, KpOBOnpO-
JHXHblfi.
sanguine, lopaHifi, hhji-
Kifi, yBtpeHHbifi.
sanitary , cuHHxapHbifi ,
Me;^n^lIHCKiii.
sank, CM. sink-
Saracen, CappartHH-b. "^
sercastically, asBuxejibHo.
sat, CM. sit.
satiate, nacijimaxb.
satirist, caxnpHKi., na-
c axe Jib caxHpxj.
satisfaction,yAOBOJibcxBie,
yrofla, yflOBJiexBopeHie.
satisfied, AOBOJibBbiM.
satisfy, yAOBjexBopaxb,
yroatAaxb.
sauce, caycx,; — pan, Ka-
cxpiojia; — r, Sjhoaciko.
savage, ABKapb; AHKifi,
JiiOTbiiij CBHpinwii.
save, cnacaxb, fiepeib,
coxpauaxb; KpoMi, hc-
K-iwiaa; to — farther
trouble, "ixoCt K36a-
BHXbCa oxx, A^'iii'H'fefi-
uiHxx xjionoxxj.
savings , cGepeateHHsra
AeHbrn.
Saviour, CnacHxejib.
Sovoy, CaBoia; of—, Ca-
BoScKifi.
saw, CM. see.
Saxon, CaKcoHei;T>; caK-
coHCKiH; — y, CaKco-
Hia.
say, cKaauBaxb, roBopaxb;
— on, roBopa!
SCafi'old,noAMOCXKH,jitci,
aiuatox-b.
scald, o6BapHBaxb; — ing
water, KHnaxoKXi. •
scale, MacmxaOii, Mipa-
.10, Mtpa.
scaly, HemyiJqaxbifi, ie-
UiyHCXbl&.
scamper, Otataxb, y6u-
- 419
paxbCH , HaBOCrpHTb
JIWHtH.
scanty, CKyAHwH, He;^o-
CXaTOMHWS.
\
scarce, p'bAKvfi; — hjh —
]y, CABa, TOJihKO ito,
HacHjiy, BpHAT) Jin; with
— ly an exception, Cb
Beciijia p-bftKHMH pasBlfe
HCKJIIOHeHiaMH.
scare away, oxnyniBari).
scarf, map*!..
scarlet, mapjaxoBwii, Hp-
KOItpaCHKlft.
scatter, pascfeeaTb, pas-
6pacb]BaTb , pacnpo-
cxpaHHTb.
. scene, ci;eHa, 3p*JiHme,
Mtcxo A'fe^cxBia) — ry,
M*cxonojiOH!eHie.
scent, "lyxbe, CJi'b/i'bj to
get of, OXblCKHBaXb
ho yyxhH).
sceptic, CKcnxHK'b.
sceptre, cKHnexp-b.
scheme, HaMipeHie.njiaH'b.
scholar, yjeHHK'b, yie-
hmS.
scholastic , luKojbHwil ,
cxcjiacxH^ecKifi.
school, yHHJiHme, luKOJia;
after — , nocjit Kjiac-
coBi); — boy, yienHK'b;
— fellow, coyHeHHKt,
mKo.iibHb]fi TOBapamij ;
— master, nacxaBHHK'b.
science, HayKa.
scientific, yMeHwft.
scoffer, HacjiljiiiHHK-b, no-
HOCHXejIb.
scold, SpaHHXb.
scorch, onajiaxb.
score, CHexT,, ■i;BaAi;axb;
on this, — , Ha CHex-b
9X0X0, OXHOCHXejbHO
cero.
scorn, npesp'feHic.
Scot, — chman, — sman,
nioxJiaHAeq-b ; — ch ,
— tish, moxjaHACKiS;
the — ch, IJloxjaHAAbi;
— land, UIoxjiaHAiH.
scoundrel, noAJieij;Th, 6e3-
AtJIbHl'IK-b.
scour, oftxoAHxb, 06*-
raxb, 6p0AHXb no,
scourge, ctiF., 6HieBaxb.
scrape, cKo6jiiixb; to —
away, oxcKoSjinxb; to
— down, cocKpeQaxb,
cocKa6;iHBaxb.
scratch, ]j;apanaxb, ne-
caxb.
scream, Kpa'iaxb, bhs-
)Kaxb; to — out, aa-
KpHMaXb.
scriptural, 6n6jiefiCKifr.
Scripture , CBan\eHH0e
IlncaHie; ho built his
hopes on — ground,
OHTj OCHOBblBaj-b CBOH
HaAEffiA" HayHeHiuCBH-
u:;eHHaro IlHcaHia.
scruple, coBtcxHocxb, co-
MH^Hie , HeAoyMifeHie ,
MHHxejibHOcxb ; — of
conscience, yrpbisenie
coBtcxn j without — ,
6631) saspitiHifl coBtcxn.
scrupulous, coB'fecxHbTtt,
MHHXeJbHblM.
scrutiny , pascMaxpuBa-
Hie, BSBtuinBaaie, npe-
cji'baoBaHie.
SCUfSe, XBaxKa, Apasa
scullion, — boy, noBa-
peHOKTj.
sculptor, Baaxejib, CKyjibn-
xop-b.
scurrilous , uiyx-iMBbiM ,
aenpHCxoMHbiH, wenpH-
JHHHWO.
scutcheon, repooBbiti mMxi..
scythe, Koca.
sea. Mope, BOJiHenie: Mop-
cKoM; by — , jiopein.}
— faring, MopcKoft,MO-
pexoAHwfi; — horse,
Mop5K'b,p'feiHaH JomaAb;
— man, MopaKx, Ma-
xpocb; — shore,— side,
MopcKofi deper-b.
^eal, neqaxb; to — , ne-
laxaxb; to — any one's
fate, plfemaxb ibio cyAb-
6y.
search, nscjitAOBaHie; to
go in — of, HAXH HCKaxb;
to — , OfiHCKHBaXb ,
HCKaxt; to— for,HCKaxb.
season, apcMa roAa, spe-
MH, nopa; — able, CBoe-
BpeMeHHbifi; — ably,
CjiaroBpeMeHHO.
seat, cxyji>, Mtcxo, CH-
Aifeaie, naMtcxbe, Aa^a,
Mlfecxonojioffienie, m*-
cxonpe6biBaHie; to have
a — , sacfeAaxb; to take
a — , caAHXbca; to — ,
cajKaxb} to be — ed,
CHAifexb , HaxoAnxbca ,
3ac*Aaxb; be— ed, ca-
AHxecb; firmly — ed,
yKpifenjeHHbiti, yxBepiK-
AeHHbiS.
seclusion, yeAHHeaie.
second, ceityHAa; BxopoH,
Apyroi1;npon — thought,
no 50^*6 spfeJOMy 06-
cyjKAeHiio; to — , noiio-
raxb, noAflepjKnBaxb; —
ly, BO Exopbix-b.
secrecy, xaSnocxb, coxpa-
Heaie btj xaftn-fe.
secret, xauaa, ceKpexx.;
— ly,xaftH0,BHyxpeHH0.
secretary of state, cxaxcb-
ceKpexapb.
secrete, xaHxb,cKpMBaxi,.
sect, ccKxa. pacKO.n>; —
ion oxAtJieaie, lacxb
secure, yBt>peHHH8, 6e3-
onacHbiS} to — , o6e3-
— 420 —
onacHTb, oxpaHHTb, o-
fieaneqHBaTt, ynpoiH-
BETB, SaKptnJIflTfc, y-
TBepfflAaxfc; — ly, 6e30-
nacHO, Ha;^effiHO, y^t-
peHHO.
security, fiesonacHocTi.,
nopyKa, oSesneieHie.
sedar, — bearer, CHAapt
(po^ii KaMep/i,HHepa b-b
sedate, cxenenHbiH, th-
xifi.
sediment, ocaAita, cca-
AOKt, OTCTOS, nO/HOHKH.
sedition , BosMymeHie ,
MHxejKi,, dyHTt.
seditious, B03MyTHTe.iib-
HblS, MHTeatHMH.
seduce, oSoJibinaTs, pas-
BpamaTb.
sedulously, npHjce/KHO,
pa3,HB0, paiUTCJIBHO.
see, enapxis; holy — ,
nancKJH npecTO.iT).
see , BHA^Tb, yBafl'feTb,
CMOTp'JbTb, nOCMOXp'l&Tb,
ycMaxpuBaTb; to come
to — J HaBtmaxb, npo-
Bt^wBaxb; to — after a
thing , CMOTptxb 3a
H'feM'b, 3a60THXbCH 0
qeMT,; to— it right, sa-
6jiaropa3cyffiAaxb; to —
out, BbiBO^nxb, npoBO-
,a!axb; to — to, cmo-
Tp*Tb 3a, npHCMaxpH-
Eaxb} — ing that, iipn-
HHMafl BO BHHMaHieixo;
the dog saw the whole
affair in an instant,
coSaita Toxiact cMeK-
Hyaa Bce a^jigj — ing,
sptHie.
seek, Hcitaxb; to — out,
npiHCKHBaTb.
seem, Kasaxbca; he did
not — hear, OH-b, Ka-
sajiocb, He cjiBixajr-b.
seen, cm. see.
Seine, Cena.
. seize, cxBaxbiBaxt, 3a-
B.iaA'fexb liai,, apecxo-
Baxb, Bocnojib30BaTbc/i
(cjiyiaeMT,, BbirofloM);
to — hold of, cxBaxbi-
BaTbj to — on, to —
ii4>on, cxBaxHBaxb, sa-
BjaAlfixb.
seldom, pi^Ko.
select, ox6opHbiit, Bw-
SopHMfi; to — , bhSh-
paxb, nsfinpaTb; —ion,
Bbi6HpaHie.
self, caM-b, ceSfl; — peg.
session, caMoyB*peH-
HOCTb; ~ respect, yBa-
SKCHie caMaro ceSa.
sell, npoAaBaxb; to — off,
pacnpoAaBaxb.
semblance, BHA'b, no«o-
6ie.
seminary, ceiBHHapiji.
senate, ceHaxTj.
send, nocwjiaxb; to —
about, pascHjraxb; to
— adrift, riycKaxt Ha
Bojiio; to — for, nocbi-
jaxb 3a; to — forth,
BbicwjiaTb, HSAaBaxb,
BbinycKaxb ; to ^ in, '
BCbiJiaxb, npucbijiaxb ;
to — in arrows among,
nycitaxb cxptjtw b'b
Koro; to — out, bhcw-
jiaxb, oxrjpaB.Taxb; to
— over, nepecbiJiaxb.
seneschal, ccHemaj'b luap-
luaji-b.
Sennacherib, CaHxepng-b
(CsHHaxepHMTj).
sensation, omyu^eHic,4yB-
cxBOBanie.
sense, ^lyBCXBO, yji'i.,
CMMCviT-; good—, 3Apa-
Bbiit pa3cyA0K'b; a man
of— yMHbift qeiOBiK'b;
— less, 6e3i. lyBcxBi,,
HepasyMHbiS.
sensible, omyTHxejibHHfi,
yMHBiH, pa3yMHuS; to
be — lyBcxBOBaxb.
sensitive, HyBcxBHxejib-
Hblfi.
sensuality , HyBcxBCH-
Hocxb, cjiacxojiio6ie.
sent, CM. send.
sentence, npe^JiOHteHie,
<J>pa3;i, npHroBOpii.
sentiment, lyBcxBo, mh*-
Hie, Mticjb.
sentinel , nacoBofi ; to
stand — , cxoHxb na
Hacax-B.
separate, 0TA*jibHbiS, o-
coSeHHbiil) to — , pas-
jyqaxb, oxA'feJflxb, pas-
A'fiJiJixb.
separation, pasjiy^eHie,
pasJiyKa.
Sepoy, cHHofl (HHAeScKia
coji/tax-b).
September, ceHxaSpb.
serf, KptnocxHofi lejio-
BtK'b.
series, pflAx>, K0jrjreKr(ia.
serious, cepio3Hbifi ; — ly,
cepiosHo; — ness, ce-
pioSHOCXb.
sermon, nponoBiAb-
serpent, 311*3; — ine,
cepneuxHHHbifi (0 wpa-
iMOpt).
servant, cjiyra, HejoBtKii,
c.iyjKaHKa; — girl, cjiy-
aiaHKa; — s, npacjiyra.
serve, cjiyyKHXb, roAHxbca,
6.iaronpiaxcxBOBaxb 06-
o
XOAHXbCfl CTb K^MTj.
service, ciyatfia, cjiywe-
Hie, ycjiyatenie, 6oro-
cjiyffleHie, sacjyra, y-
cjyra; to be of — , no-
— 421 —
cjiyiKHTb, 6uTt nojies-
HBlMt.
serving-man, cjyra, ne-
JlOBtR'b.
servitude, paSciBo, noA-
;^aHCTBO.
session, sactAanie, BpeiiH
8ac'fi/^aHifi ; Sessions
House, aoMTj fljra sac*-
RaHifi, npHcyTCTsie.
set, npudoiiT,, cepBHSt,
poA>, paspaAt, pflAt,
iiiafiica; to — , cxaBHTb,
CaAHTbCH HJIH SaXOAHTb
(ocoJIH^1l); to — a di-
stance, o6o3HaiaTbpa3-
CTOHhie) to— an exam-
ple, HBJiHTb, noAaBaTb
iipuiu'fip'ij; to— any one
down for, sannctiBaTb
3a K^MTb; to — any one's
limbs, BripaBjisTb tJie-
Hw; to — aside, ycTpa-
HHTb; to — at liberty,
ocBo6o!KA0'i'b; to — at
work, npHBOAHTb btj
AtficTBie ; to — by, y-
crpaHHTb; to — eyes
upon, ycxpesiJiaTb rjia-
sa Ha HTo; to— fire to,
aaffiHraTb; to — foot on,
cxynaxb aa, cxaBHTb
Hdry Ha; to — forth,
oxupaBJiaxbca btj a^-
pory, BHCxaBjaTb, no-
Ka3biBaxb ) to be —
home upon any one's
heart, rjiySoKO xporaxb
ibe cepAAe; to — in,
wacxaBaxb, nacTynaxb,;
to — off, to — out, OT-
npaBjiaxbca; to — on,
HanycKaxb, noAxpaBJiH-
Baxb; to — spurs, npH-
lunopHBaxb; to — to,
npHHH-AiaTbCfl 3a ]['bJio;
to — to work, caffiaxB
3a paGoxy, sacxaBjraxb
paOoxaxb ; to — up,
noAHHMaxB, yqpeiKAaxb,
sasoAHTb, Boscxaao-
BJaxb; — ting of the
sun, saxca'AeHie hjih
saKax-B cojii)i;a.
settle, ycxpoHBaxb, no-
cejiaxb, ycxpoMBaxbca,
nocejiaxbca, ycnoKOH-
Baxbcaj to— au account,
noKOHHHTb C4eTi>, pac-
HHxbiBaxbca
to
on
any one, HasHaqaxb
Koiwy; — d, uocxoaH-
HbiM; — ment, noce-
jreaie; — r, nocejieHeu.'b,
KO.IOHHCT'b.
seven, cejib ;. — teen,
ceMHUAiiaxb; — teenth,
ceMHaAuaxbifi; — th,
ceAbMoii; — ty, ceiub-
Aecaxb.
sever, oxAtJiaxb, pasjiy-
4aTb.
several, HtKoxopwe, mho-
rie, paSHbiM, OTA*Jib-
Hbiii; — ly, oxAtJibHo,
ocofieHHO.
severe, cxporiS, atecxo-
Kifi, cypoBbiM, xaaie-
JMH ; — ly, xafficjo,
CHjibHO, cxporo.
severity, cxporocxb.
Severn, CeBcpH'b
Severus, CeaepT,.
sex, noin).
shabby, oSoApaaaufi.
shade, xtHb, oxxtHOK-B.
shaft, cxptJia.
shaggy, KocMaxbiM, Mox-
HaxbiM.
shake, xpacxa, xpacxHCb,
noxpacaxbca, nojocKaxb
(o napycfc); to — one's
head, noKaiaxb rojio-
Boii; — of hand, no-
jKaxie pyKH; to give a
— noxpacxH.
shall, AOJiateHT.; 03Haq.
6yA. Bp. I — see, a
yBHHty; npom. BpeM.
should, AOJiHteH'b 6bwt..
shallow, MejKifi, HCFjry-
6oKiM, nycxofi, noBepx-
H«CTHblfi.
shame, cxwa-b, cpaMi; —
ful, nocxbiAHbiS, cpaM-
HBifi; — fully, nocxHA-
HO, cpaMHO.
shan't, CM. shall not.
shape, BHA'BjoCpas'b, top-
jia , oiHrypa ; . — less,
6e3o6pa3Hbifi.
share, AOJia, yiacxie; to
— pasA^Jiaxb, A'b.iHXbca,
yqacxBoaaxb.
shark, oKyjia.
sharp, p'fe3KiM, ocxpbiM,
npoHSHxejbHbiS, cxpo-
rifij- — ness, ocxpoKO-
HeiHOcxb ; — pointed,
OCXpOKOHeiHblfi.
shatter, pasSuaaxb btj
Ape6e3rH, pa36HBaxBca.
shave, dpnxb, cxpanb.
she, ona.
sheaf, cHon-b.
sheath, hoikhbi.
shed, Haatcb, capaft; to
— H3JIHBaXb, npojiH-
aaxb (KpoBb), Hcny-
CKaxb (jiyiH).
sheen, ciaaie, 6jiecK'b.
sheep, OBqa.
sheet, JiHCTi., npocxbiaa,
mKOxi.; to — , noKpBi-
saxb; — iron, jincxoBoe
Hteji'feso, iKecxb.
shelf, nojTKa.
shell, Hepenij.
shelter, npaKpuxie, npi-
KTh, npHfitHHme, y-
6't/KHu;e, npacxaHHme;
to — , npHKpwBaxb, 3a-
n^Hmaxb.
422
shepherd, nacTyxi>; na-
CTymiS.
sheriff, mepnfb, HcnpaB-
HHKT., SeMCKiS Cy^jbH.
sherry, xepect.
shew, CM. show.
shield, n^HT'b, aamHTa.
shift, yBepTKa; to make
— , ycn'bBaTb; to — h3-
5aBJiaTi.ca, OTA*JibiBaTb-
ca OT-b; to — to each
other, nepeAasaTb Apyn>
Apyry ; — ing, nepe-
Mtna M*CTa.
shilling, mHJUHHri..
shine, ciaTb, cBibTHTb,
OJiecTtTb ; to — out,
CBlBTHTb CKB03b, npO-
CBtHHEaXb.
ship, KopaOjib, cyflHo; —
ment, iiepeBOSEa (to-
BapoB-b} Ha cyflHt; —
of war, BOCHHoe cyp;-
HO) — ping, Kopa5jiH,
'cy^a; — wrecked, npe-
TepnliBuiiM KpymeHie.
shire, rpaTCTBO (bt. Anr-
.lin).
shirt, pyCaxa (jiyatcKaa).
shiver, pasGKBaTb, pas-
lUH6aTb, ApOiKUTb.
shoal, MCiKoe, HerjiySo-
Koe MtcTO, 6aHKa.
shock , CTOJIKHOBCHie ,
y^api,, noTpaccHJe, mc-
nycb; gave her a swd-
den
npH'iHHHjo en
BHesaHHoe coTpaccHie;
to — , nopaataxb, cxaji-
KHBaxbca, yatacaxb, y-
atacaxbca.
shod, CM. shoe,
shoe, SaiiiMaK-B, nonKOBa;
to — , DOAKOBblBaXb; —
black , HHCXHJlblUHKl.
canoroB-b; — ing, noR-
KOBKa: — maker, 6aui-
MaiHHK'b.
shone, cm. shine,
shook, CM. shake.
shoot, cxplfejiaxb, sacxpt-
jiHBaxb; to go a — ing,
oxnpaBjraxbCH Ha o-
xoxy.
shop, JiaBKa, warasHHt;
jiaBOiHbifi ; — keeper,
jiaBOHHHK'b 5 — man.
cHAlsJieuij.
shore, 6eper'b.
short, KopoxKiM, KpaxKiri,
OJiHSKift, Majiopocjibift,
HeAOC'xaxoqHwM; a —
distance, bi> He6o.ib-
moMt pascxoHHia; a —
walk, Ma,iieHbKaa npo-
ryjiita; to be little —
of, He MHoro He floxo-
jHxb; to fall — , CM.
fall; in — , opfiiMi
cjiOBOMt; — ly, qpesii
KopoxKoe BpeMH, cKopo;
to — en, KopoxHxb; —
sighted, ojiHsopyKifi,
HCAaJIbHOBHAHblM.
shot, CM.ShOOtjBbTCXptJll.
aspo, nyjia, sapaAx. (ny-
lue^HbiM), cnapaAH.
should, npom. Bp. Bcn.
rjiar. shall; osuaiaex'b
xaiiffie yCjiOBHOe naKJi.
H nepcBOAHXca npo-
lueAui.BpeMeHeMX) xjraB-
Haro rjarojia, npeAtue-
cxByeMbiMTi HacximeH)
ft'b); I — see, a 6m bh-
AIbjUj; we — not have
gained, ww ne BWHrpa-
jiH 6w; how we — act,
KaKij HaMX> HaAoSno
fibijio A*ScxB0Baxb.
shoulder, njeMe.
shout, BOCKJIHIjaHieiKpHKi;
to - , KpHHaXb, BOCKJIH-
i^axb.
shove, HHXaXb, OXXaJIKH-
Baxb.
shovel-hoaf d , nrpa bxj
EaMbiniKH.
show, noKasi., HapaATj,
nWlDHOCXb, BajTHKOJlt-
nie; to — , noKaswBaxb,
yK asbiBaxb , aBJiaxb ,
npeAT»aBJiaxb, npOBO-
ataxb, noKasbiBaxbca 5
— ing, noKasanie.
shower, .inBCHb, Aoatflb,
AOatAHieK-b; a heavy —
of rain , npojEBHoS
AOffiAb; to — , JHXb, 03-
jiHBaxb, oSjiHBaxb, ne-
pejiHBaxb AOHSAewb.
shown, CM. show.
shred, jtocKyxoK-b.
shrewdness, AOraA-iaBOCXb,
ocxpoxa, xHxpocxb.
shriek , nponsHxejibHbifi
KpHK-b; she nttered a
faint — , oHa cjia6HM'B
rojiocoMX) BCKpHKHyja.
shrill, npoHSHxejibHbiii.
shrink, oxcxynaxb, yKJio-
Haxbca, Soaxbca, cxpa-
maxbca} to -back, ox- ,
CKaKHBaXb.
shrouds, BaaxH.
shrub, Kycx-b.
shrunk, cm. shrink.
shudder, coAporaHie; with
a — coAporaacb.
shut, saiBOpaxb, sanH-
paxb, CMbiKaxb, aanpu-
Baxb; to — up, sa-
xBOpaxK, sannpaxb; —
ter, craBenb.
shuttle , xKai;KJS He.i •
HOKT).
Siberia, CnfiHpb.
Sicily, CH^^JIiH.
sick, oojibHoM; — ly, xbo-
pbifi, Soji'feBHeHHwfi; a
— ly year, roaxj, no-
paaiAaion^iM - SoJitSHH ;
— ness, fioJitSHb, xoni-
Hoxa.
423
side, fioK-b , cropoHa ,
oopT-b, Seper-b, nap-
Tja; — by — , Apyit
nOAJtli APyra, paAOMij )
a river — , Seperi. oft-
Hofi ptKH; at the — of
the body, nOAJi* 'ffijia;
by any one's — , nofl-
jit Koro.
siege, ocaAa.
sigh, BSAOxt; to give a
— , BSAOXHyTb; to — ,
BSAHxaxb, CTOHaxb.
sight, bhatj, sptHie, spt-
jiHine; in the — of,
npeATj JtHueMt; second
— ABofiHoe spiHie ,
npcAHyBCTBie; the —
of thine eyes, oxpa^a
oieii TBOHxt; to get —
of, XepHTb HS-b BHAy-
sign, SHaKt, npHSHaKt,
BLiBtCKaj to — , noA-
HHCblBaTb.
signal, HSBtCTHTejIbHblft
SHaK-b, CHrHaji-b; — ly,
MpeSBWHafiHO, CJiaBHO,
BHaiHTejIbHO.
signature, noAnacb.
signify, 3HaHHTb, 03Ha-
HaTL.
silence, MOJinaHie; to — ,
sacxaBJiJiTb MOJinaxb.
silent, 6e3MOJiBHbifr, —
]y, MOJina.
silk, luejiKi., mejiKOBbiS;
— worm, mejKOBHH-
kmM qepBb.
silver, cepeOpo; cepeSpH-
HbiS; — y, cepeOpaHbiM,
cepeSpHCxbifi,
similar, noAo6HMfi.
simony, CHMOnia, cbhto-
KyncxBO.
simple, npocxofi, npocxo-
AyniHblfi, OAHHli XOJIbKO.
simplicity, npocToxa, npo-
cxoAyuiie.
simply, npocxo.
sin, rpixf^; — ner, rptm-
HHHTb.
since, xoaiy HaaaA-b, no-
cj'b axoro, ch ffixa,
nopij, Cb Ttx-b nopij
j KaKTj^ cb, nocji'b, TaK^
j KaKi; not long — , ne-
I , AaBHO.
j sincere, HCKpenHifi.
i sinew, cyxaa ffiHja.
sing, nuxb.
singe, onaaaxb.
single , eAHHcxBeHHbiii ,
eAHHbiii, OAHHTj, oahht.
XOJIbKO ; you hardly
know a — word^ liu
He SHaexe noixH hh
OAHoro cjioBa} — horse,
OAHOKOHHbiS; to — out,
BwGapaxb.
singular , ocoSeHHwfi ,
eAHHCxBeHHbjfi, cxpaH"
HwS, npHHyAJtHBbiii.
sink, norpyffiaxbca, ony-
CKaxbca, xoHyxb, no-
xonjiflxb, Konaxb, MSHe-
MOraxb} to — with, h3-
HeMoraxb, 6bixb yApy-
qeHHUMT..
sip, nonHBaxb.
Sir, cyAapb, MHjocxHBufi
TocyAapb, CspiD (xh-
xyjiT. Sapoaexa 0 Ka-
Bajiepa). KaK'b bo-
npoc'b Sir? aaaHHX'b:
Kaifb? 4X0 Bbi CKasajiH?
Hxo BaMTj yroAHO?
Sire, TocyAapb, Bauie Be-
,IH4eCXB0, oxeL^T.,
sister, cecxpa; — in law,
cBOfl>ieHHi],a.
sit, cHA*Tb, caAHXhca;
to — down, caAMXbca.
sith, CM. since.
sitaate, — d, jiejKamifi,
HaxoAHiniMca, pacnojio-
HteiiHuS, co3xoau;iS; to.
be — d, HaxoAHXbca;
being so — d, HaxoAflCb
Bt xaKOMTj nojojKeHin;
she felt herself fear-
fully— d, oaa lyBCXBo-
BaJia, 1x0 nojiOHteHie
ea 6biJio yatacHoe.
situation, no-aoHtenie, Mt-
cxo, CHxyai;ia.
six, uiecxb; — pence, no-
jiymHJiJiHHr'b ; — teen,
mecxHaAi;axb; — teen
hundred, xbicana uiecxb
COX*; — teeuth, luecx-
HaAuaxbiii ; — th, me-
cxoM; — ty, uiecxbAe-
caxb.
size, BejiHiHHa, paSMtpt,
pOCXT..
skeleton, ocxaB-b, cKe-
jiext.
sketch, oHepK-b, acKHSTj,
HanepxaHie, to — , Ha-
HepHHBaxb.
skilful, HCKyCHbiS, JtOB-
Kifi ; — ly, HCKycHo,
JIOBKO.
skill, MCKyexBO, jiobkocxb,,
cnoco6HOCxb.
skin, Koata, K03KH^a,
skip, npaftaxb, CKaKaxb,
upwraxb,
skirmish, cxw-iKa; a —
ing party, napxia ot-
npaBJiaiou^aaca Ha cxhi-
Ky.
skirt, KpaK, KOHeu.'b, 0-
nyuiKa.
skurry, (M'bcxHoe Bwpa-
Hcenie), cm. hurry,
sky, He6o; open to the
— , nOAt OXKpWTblM'b
HeSoM'b; — blue, ro-
jiyooS i],BtxTb. •
slacken, ocJiaSaaxb, y6a-
Bjiaxb, saMeA-iflxb.
slackness, MeAJieHHocxb,
' HepaAHBOCxb.
''?
424 —
slain, CM. slay,
slap, TysHTb, niJienaTb.
slash, pySHTb,
slate, ac^H;^'b, lUHflDepii,
ac^H;^Haa ;i,ocKa.
slaughter, itpoBonpojiH-
Tie; to — , Shtb, ySn-
BaTt.
slave, HeBOJibHHK'L, paCi.;
to — , yTOMjiHTbca pa-
6oTaa ) — ry, HeBOJib-
HHqecTBO, pa6cTB0.
slay, yOHBaTt , yMcpm-
BJIHTb.
sledge, cann.
>, coHi>; to — , cnaTb,
noHHBaxb; — er, cna-
mifi; — y, cOHHuft, coH-
JIHBblS.
slender, cTpofiHjuft.
slept, CM. sleep,
slew, CM. slay.
slice, (TOBeHbKiM) KyCOKT..
slide;, KaTaxbCfl (noJib;i,y),
CKOJIbSHTb.
slight, HesHaHHTejbHuM,
Majibiu; — )y, JierKO,
cjierna, HenHoro.
slily, xHTpocTiio, acnojs,-
THIllKa.
sling, noABHSKa; to — ,
noflBasbiBaxb, nosBt-
inHBaxb , noAHHMaTb ,
noAHHsiaTb Ha cxpo-
nax-b, nojioffiHTb cxpo-
nbi Ha HTO HaOyflb.
slip, nponycKaxb) if 1 let
— ecjiH a saMT. ycKOJib-
BHyxb; — per, xytejib.
sloop, lUJiMm. (o^HOMa-
HxoBoe cyflHO); — of
war, BoeHHbiii mjuonx..
slope, OXKOCb, HaiCJIOHt,
cKaxt, noicaxb, notfa-
XOCXb.
slough, xonb, Jiysa.
slow, Me^JieHHbiHi to be
— , Me^Jiiixb, M*iiJKaxb;
by — degrees, Majro
no Majy; — ly, mbju-
.HeHHO, XHXO.
sluggish, Ji'^auBhim, sa-
jibiM.
Slumher, Apemoxa, coHx;
to — , ApcMaxb, cnaxb,
noHHBaxb.
slung, CM. sling,
smack, xjronaxb; — went
the whip, saxjionajiT.
KHyxt.
small, MajibifijMajieHbKiH,
MejiKifi, MaJOBaffiHbiS ;
— beer, nojinHBO.
smell, 3anaxi); to-^, nax-
Hyxb, Hioxaxb; — ing,
o6oHaHie; — ing bottle,
AymHHi;a, oi.iaKOH'jHKTj.
smelt, CM. smell.
smile, yjibiSaxbca; to —
upon, SjaronpiaxcxBO-
Baxb.
smite, yAapaxb, nopa-
ffiaxb, xoJiKaxb, Kapaxb,
HaKasbiBaxb , cxajiKn-
Baxbca; to — from, to
— off , cp-feSbiBaxb ,
CMaxHyxb.
smock frock, SajiaxonX),
apMHRt, SjiysTj.
smoke, j^hXM'b; to—, Ky-
pnxb, AMMHXbca; — r,
Kypnxejib xaGany, ny-
pHJIbDUHKlj.
smooth, rjiaAKiil; — ly,
njraBHO.
smuggle into, xafiHO bbo-
AHXb.
Smyrna, CMnpna.
smack, aojih; to go — • s,
A^Jinxbca.
snare, o&xb, chjiokij, sa-
naAHa.
snatch, XBaxaxb; to —
away, to — out, BbixBa-
XHBaxb, BbipbiBaxb; to
— up, noAXBaxbiBaxb,
sneer, sySocKajuxb, na-
CMtxaxbca HaAt Ktwi..
snipe, KyjiBHt, 6eKac'b.
snore, xpantxb.
snort, obipKaxb (o jio-
njaAn).
snow, CHfirt ; — clad ,
noKpbixbiS cHtroMt.
snuff-box, xaSaKepKa.
snug, yioxHHfi.
SO, xaicb^ xaKHMT. o6pa-
BOMTj, H XaKTb, CXOJb}
' — many , ■ — much ,
cxojibKo; — am I, h h
xaKHte; by a few feet
or — , HtCKOJTbKHMH *y-
xaMH HJiH OKOJio xoro;
in an hour or — , ipesi.
lacB BpeMeHH njiH o-
KOJio xoro; to do - ,
CAtJiaxb 3X0.
soap, Mbiao.
sob, pbiAaxb.
sober, xpesBHS, BOSAepat-
HbiS, cxeneHHbiH; to — ,
npoxpesBJiaxb.
sobriety, xpesBocxb, bos-
AcpatHOcxb.
social, o5mecxBeHHbifi.
society, oSmecxBo.
soft, MarKiB, xHxifi, cno-
KOHHbiM; — ly, xHxo;
to — en , ywarnaxb ,
CMarnaxb, CMarHaxbca.
soil, noHBa, scMJia; to — ,
Mapaxb, saMapwBaxb.
sojourn, npeCbiBaxb.
solar, cojiHeMHbiu.
sold, CM, sell.
soldier, cojiAaxii, Bonnt;
— ship , cojiAaxcKoe
3BaHie.
sole, eAHHCXBeHHHfi, iBAH-
HbiS ; — ly , eAHH-
CXBCHHO.
solemn, xopa;ecxBeHHwS;
— ly, xopffiecxBCHHO.
solicit, npocHxb, y6*AH-
425
TejibHO npocHTb ; —
ude, none'ienie, oiiace-
Hie; with painful —
ude, ctj npncKopSieM'b
H oiiaceHieMTi.
solid, ocHOBaxejibHWH; —
ity, Tcep/^0CT£), ocho-
BaTe.ibiiocTi)
Ha/],e/K-
HOCTb.
solitary, yesHHenHufi,
solitude, yeAHHeHie.
Solomon, Cojomohi..
solve, ptUiaTb, HS'bHC-
HHTb.
sombre, Mpauiiufi.
some, HiKOTopbiS, Ka-
Kofi Hu5yAb; iiicKOJibKO,
HenHoro; — soap,cyny;
at ■ distance, btj ne-
Oo^buioMTj pascTOHniii;
— body, — one, hIj-
KTO, KT0-HH6yAb; —
thing, HtqTO, hto-to,
I!0e-4T0, 4T0 HIl5y/l,b5
thing like, HtcKOJibKo
noxoAain,ifi Ha; — times ,
HHor/^a; — what, h'£-
4T0, HTO HHSyftb, Ht-
CKOJIblCO.
son, CbiHi.; — in law,
aaxbj great grand — ,
npuBHyKi..
sonata, couaTa.
song, H'feCHa, ntaie.
sonnet, coHext.
soon, CKopo, panOjBCKO-
p* ; as — as^ jiuinb
TOJtbKO, KaKT. TOJbKO,
KOJib CKopo} — er, cko-
p'fec; no — er than,
JIHUIb . TOJbKO . . . KaiSI.
yate.
soothe, JiacKaTb, yT*-
maTb.
sopha, co«a.
Sophocles, CoooKji^.
Sorbonne, npeatHift sy-
xOBHbiii oaKyjibxeTt
Bt napiiatli.
sore, 5oJibHO, Kpafine,
BCCbJia.
sorrow, ne^ajib, ropecTb,
CK0p6b.
sorry, ne^ajibHbiii; I am
very — , mhIi O'lcub
ffiajib.
sort, poA'b, copx^b, 06-
past; all — s of, boi-
itaro po^a.
so't, CM. so it.
sought, CM. seek,
soul, flyiiia.
sound, 3ByK'b; SAOpOBwS,
Kp'hriKifi, TBep^bifl, oc-
HOBaxejibHbiM} a — be-
liever, xBep/1,0 BlBpyio-
iii,iS; to — , xpySHXb
(bT) xpy6y), ssyiaxb,
ox3biBaxbCHj oxAaBaxb-
ca; — ly, itp'feaKO,
CHJIbHO-
soup, cyn-b.
sour, KHcabiii, yrpiOMufi.
source, HCXOqHHK'B.
south, lOFTb, 10>KHbIU, KT.
lory; — east, loro-BOCxoH
Hbitt, Kt lory-Bocxoicy;
— ern, iojkhbiS ; —
ward, ktj lory.
sovereign, ^apcxByion^aa
oco5a, B.iaA'fixejib, ro-
cy^apb, ii,apb, coBe-
peHb (OK. 7 py5. c);
BepxoBHwB, BblCtUifl.
sow, cfeaxb,
space, npocxpaHCXBO,
npojieffiyxoK'b , npo-
AOJLHjenie (BpeweHu).
spade, sacxyrn,, jionaxa.
Spain, Ilcnauia.
spake, CM, speak.
Spaniard, HcnaHci^'B.
spaniel, JcaraBaa co6aKa.
Spanish, ncnaHCElS.
spare, 6epe;Kj:HBwS, sko-
HOMHbiH, yji-bpenHbiH,
CKyAHbifi; to - , ma-
ffHxb, 6epe4b, iisSaB-
JiHXb, coxpaHaxb; jihiu-
Hifi.
sparing, SepeatjuBbifi,
3K0H0iiiHbn1, yMipeH-
HH1I.
sparkle, Sjincxaxb, cBep-
Kaxb.
sparrow, Bppo6ea.
speak, rOBOpHTb, npOH3-
HOCHXb; to — for any
one, Bcxyaaxbca sa
Koro; — er, roBopamifi,
opaxopij .
spear, Konbe, unica; —
head, ocxpie Konba.
special, ocoQenHbifii, vpcs-
BWHaflnbiM.
specie, uonexa, Hajraq-
Hbia AGHbrH.
species, poAt,
specimen, o5pa34HKi>,
oSpasci^T).
specious, QjiaroBaAHbia.
speck, naxHO.
spectacle, sptjinme.
spectator, spuxejib.
spectrum, H3o6pa7KeHie.
speculation, pasMMuuie-
Hie, cneityjiai^ia.
speculator, yMospuxejib,
co3ep]J(axe.iib.
sped, CM. speed,
speech, cjiobo, a3biKi>,
speed, nocnlJiuHOcxb, 5bi-
cxpoxa, npwxKOcxb)
at full — ,bo bcio npuxb,
bo Becb onop'b; to be
in — , cntoinxb, xopo-
nnxbca; to — . cnliiuHxb,
— ily,nocn'BuiHO,ci(opo,
Obicxpo; — y, cn-feuinbifi,
nocniiuHbiS, cKopui,
spell, cKjia/i,biBaxb.
54
426
spend, H3;i;epffiHBaTt, hc-
TpaiHBaTb, HCTomaxb,
npOBORHTb.
spent, CM. spend,
spice, npantiS; — s, npa-
HOCTH.
spider, nayKi,.
spin, npflCTb, BepTlBTbCH,.
cxpyHTbCfl; — ning,
npfl3,eHie.
spinage, mnvmSiTb.
spiral, BHHTOBOii, cnH-
pajibHbiii.
spire, mnmu,'h (y SaiuHH).
spirit, ffyxt, Ayuia, 6oa-
pocTb , cniipxT. ; a
woman of—, iKenmH-
Ha ct xapaKTepoMt;
— s, Kp'fenKie HanHTKHj
in — s, BT> Ayxt; in high
— 8. K'B secbMa xopo-
luCM-B pacnojioHteHiii
Ryxa; — ed, CMi-ibiS,
OTBa.HHbiM ; high —
ed, nbUKia, rupaqiS,
ropffbiM; — ual, Ry-
XOBHblii.
spit out, BbinjieBbiBaxb.
spite, 3Jio6a, RocaAa; in
— ot, BonpcKn, HasJio,
He CMOXpH Ha.
splash, 3a6pbi3rHBaTb,
Splendid, BeJUriKajtlinHwii.
splendour, Gjibckij, ee-
juiKOJilanie. ""
split, pacKajiHBaxb, xpec-
ayxb, pa36nBaxb.
spoil, AoObi'ia, rpaSentT.)
to , HOpXHXb.
spoke, CM. speak,
spoken, cm. speak.
sponge^ ry6K».
spongy, ry6qaxw8, hos-
Apesaxbift.
spoon, JiOiEKa.
sport, Hrpa, safiaBa, yee-
ccjiBHie, nox'fixa, neo-
Bafl oxoxa
spot, DHXHO, M'fiCXO.
spouse, cynpyra, Htena.
spout, pa3.6pbi3rnBaxb.
sprang, cm. spring.
sprawl, SapaxxaxbCH, sa-
jiflxbca.
spray, B*xKa, xBopocxi,,
OpHSTH B0.IIH1>; to — ,
6pbi3raxb, ntHHXbca.
spread, pacxarHBaxb pas-
cbinaxb , pacnpocxpa-
Haxb, pasrjiamaTb, no-
itpbiBaxb, HaitpbiEaxb
(cto-itj), pacnpocxpa-
HHXbCH, pascbinaxbCfl;
to — a cloth, nocTH-
jiaxb cKaxepxb ; to —
around, noBCOM'teTHO,
pacnpocxpaHHXbCH.
sprig, BiXOHKa.
sprightly, skhboh, pts-
BbiS, Becejiwfi.
spring, BecHa, npyatHHa;
to — , CKaKaxb, npw-
raTb,noKa3biBaxb(xe4b),
npoBCxoAHTb; to —
back, cKaKaxb nasa^'B}
to — one's rattle, nep-
xtxb CBOio xpemex-
Ky} to — out, BblCKaKH-
spurn, HHHaxb HOroK).
npesHpaxb.
spy, ycjiaxpHBaxb.
squander, pacxoiaxb,
square, cKBept, oropo-
ateHHbiS caAHKi. na
n.iioaj(aAH; KBaApaxHbifi;
to- —
oxccbiBaxb
Baxb;
to
towards
any one, KHAaxbca he
Koroj to~up, Bocpac-
xaxb, noAHHMaxbca.
sprinkle , oKponjaxb,
onpbiCKHBaxb.
sprung, CM. spring. •
spun, CM. spin.
spuDging house, Bpc-
MCHHaHxiopbMa AJia ne-
cocxoaxejibHHxij ftOJiat-
HHKOBT..
spur, mnopa; to set
— 8, npHuinopHBaxb;
— rier, mnopHHK-b,
mnopHbiS Macxep-b,
KBaApaxHO.
squeeze, ataxb, catHMaxb;
to — into, BXHCKHBaXb-
ca, Bxnpaxbca.
squire, msTOHoceni'B, opy-
HteHOcen.'B, Baccaai),
nOM'fimHK'B.
St., coKp. saint, CBHxoft,
CBHxaa; — Andrew,
Cb. AHApeQ; at —An-
drew's, BT. yHHBepCH-
TCT-fi Cb. AHApeaj —
Bittel. BtpoaxHO coKp.
St. Botolph, Cb. Bo-
xo.nbo'b} — Christopher,
ocxpoBT. Cb. XpHCXO-
iopaj — David, Cb.
P^aBHAT.;— Frances, Cb .
<I>paHi^HCK'b;— George,
Cb. I'eopriiij — Giles,
Cb. SrnAift; — Helena,
ocxpoBt Cb. Ejichh;
— John, Cb. loaHHi.;
— Lawrence, Cb. JlaB-
pcHxifi; — Louis, Cb.
./IiOAOBnKTb; — Lucia,
ocrpoBt Cb. ,3ioain;
— Margaret, Cb. Map-
rapnxa; — Mary, Cb.
Mapia; — Paul, Cb.
naBeji-b;. — Peter, Cb.
Ilexpt.
stab, saicajibiBaxb, npoH-
3axb, npoKa.'Ti.iBaxb.
stability,xBepAocTb,npoi-
HOCTb, nOCXOHHHOCTb.
stable, KOHioniHa.
stage, rxyneHb, cxeneHb,
ci^efla, Tcaxprb, no-
npnme, cxani^iH; —
— 427
coach, ;^HJIUfflaHc^5J —
waggon, noHTOBaa re-
jiera,o6o3HaH noBOSita.
stagger, KOJiefiaTi., nsiou-
JflTB.
stagnant, sacToilnbiM,
CTOflHiH.
stain, naxHO) to — , naT-
HaxL, KpacuTb, Kpa-
naxfc, sanaTHbiBaxb} —
ed glass, pacuHcaHHoe
creKJio; — ed with
vices, norpasHyBiuifi
Bt nopoKax-B,
staircase, jitcHima, Kpwjrb-
u.e.
stairs, jtCTHnu.a, Kpujib-
jqe; down — , btj hiis'b;
up — , Ha BepxT..
stake, CTaBHTb (cTaBKy).
stalk, crefiejfb} to — ,uia-
raxb.
stall, MacHaa jiaBita.
stamp, xoaanie; with a
— of the foot^ xonaa
Horofi.
stand, cTOHHie, cxoflita,
MtCTo; to — , CTOaxb,
ocTaHaBjHBaxbca; to —
any one's friend^ 6bixb
Hban'b ;^py^0M'b^ oita-
saxb KOMy /^pyatecKyio
ycjiyry; to — on end,
cxoaxb ;i,bi5oin> (o bo-
jrocaxT)); to— over any
one, HaKJiOHaxbca Hafti>
K^MT.; to — still , ocxa-
HaBjiHBaxbca; to — upon
the defensive, o6opo-
HHXbCfl, flepHiaxb ce6a
Bt oSopOHUXejIbHOMt
nojioateHiii, A'feficxBO-
BaXb 060p0HHXC.IbH0;
— ing, nocxoaHHHfi, ae-
HSM'tHHbifi; — ing up,
CXOfl.
standard, SHaMa, mxan-
;^apx■b.
staple, CKJIaj^OHHoe ut-
cxo; rjiaEHbiS.
star, SBtsfla; —chamber,
3Bl33AHaa najiaxa.
starboard, npasaa cxo-
poHa (KopaSjia).
stare, xapamnxb rjiasa,
npncxajibHO CMOxplfexb
.Ha Koro.
start, BcnbixT), oxpbiBKa;
by— s, oxpbiBKaiun; to
— , BCKainiBaxB, Bcxpe-
oeHyxbCK, oxnpaB.iiHXb-
cn; to — back, oxcko-
iiixb Hasap;!); to — off,
oxnpaBJiaxbca,nycKaTb-
ca B-b Aopory; to — up,
BCKaKiiBaxLj we could
not — it, Mbi He MorjiH
CABHHyxb ee a, Mtcxaj
— ing, oxopaBJienie.
startle, C3jyu:(axb, ycxpa-
maxb, 03n;^a'^HBaTb.
starvation , rojio/i,Haa
cMepib, iisHeuoffieHiej
to expire from — ,
ymepexb ox-b roJiOAy
HjiH ro.IO^^Horo CMcpxiro.
starve, rojto;i;axb, yim-
CB rojo/iiy; — d, h3mo~
peHimil, roJiOflHbift.
Stat&, cocxoaaie, nojio-
ffienie, rocy/"i;apcxBo,
ihhtj, cocjiOBie, sea-
nie, mxaxi), BejiHito-
jitnie, nwuiHocxb, bc-
jiH'ne; an affair 'of — ,
i-QcynapcxBeHHoe 'i.'fejio;
to — , yxBepffiAaxb,
npe;i;jiaraTB, CKaSHBaxb,
CBHA^ixejibcxBOBaxb; —
ly,BejiHKoa'feaHbifi,nbiui-
HbiS} — ment, asjroffie-
Hie, npe^cxaBJieHie; —
prison, xiopbina ;i;.ia
rocyaapcxBCHHHX'B npe-
cxynHHKOB-b; — sman,
uyatTj rocyAapcxBea-
Hbift, nojmxHKi).
station, cxaHi;ia, Mtcxo,
nocxTj, noJiO/KCHie (btj
CBtx*); to — , cxaBHXb;
— ary, nocxoaHHwii,
Heno;i,Bii/KHbiH:.
statistical; cxaxncxaie-
ciuii.
statue, cxaxya.
stitare, cxamj, pocx-b.
statute, ysaKOHeHHbiti.
staunch, nocxoaHHwS,
B'fepHblfl
stave, paciUHfiaxbCH.
stay, noAnopa, nixar-B;
to — , ocxasaxbca, npo-
6biBaTb,ocTaHaBJiiiEaxb;
to — behind, OTcxaBaxb
ox-b ^(pyrHX'b, He npa-
xo;i;nTb.
stead, M'fecxo; — fast,
cxoilidS, xBcpftbifi, no-
cxoHHHbiil; — y, no-
CXOaHHMII, B^b OaHOM-b
noJosteHin (o Kiu'fe);
to keep the ship's
head — y, /^epataxb leo-
pa5.ib HOcoM-b npoxaBt
Btxpa.
steal, Kpacxbj to — away,
noxnn^axb; to — into,
BKpa;tbiBaxbca.
steam, napij; to — , ji^bi-
Muxbca, HcnycKaxb na-
pbi; — boat, — er. na-
poxo^i-bj — packet, na-
poBoS naKex6ox'i..
steed, KOHb.
steel, cxajib; cxajibHoS.
steep, itpyxoM.
steeple, KOJioKOJibHa.
steer, npaBHXb, ynpae-
jiaxb; — age, nepe^Haa
Kaioxa.
stem, cxBOJirb.
step, mart, cxyneHb,
cxyneHbKa, cji'^^'b, no-
— 428 —
CTynoKTjj to make this
— , nocTynnTB TaKHMt
oSpasoMt; to — , cry-
naTb, xoahtk; to — be-
fore, noACTynaTh; to
— forth, to —forward,
BHCxynaxb Bnepe^'t;
to — in, Bxo^nTi.; to —
into the boat, ctCTb
Bt JOAKyj to — out,
xo^nTb, BHCTynaTb", —
mother, sia'jHxa.
Stephen, CTe^afi-B, Ctc-
naHt.
sterile, HenjioAOHocuwfi.
sterling , CTep-inHn,,
CTepjiHHroBaK MOHera.
stern, Kopiia; cypoBMM,
HenpeKJionHBifi, cept-
esHbiil, CTporiS.
steward, ^I;Bope^KilJ,
KaiOT-b-iOHra.
stick, na.iKa, rpocTb; to
— fast, yBasHyxb; to —
round, OKJieiiBaTb, 06-
jienjinBaTb; to — up,
npHjilfenJiKTb , npn6n-
BaTb.
stiff, OKOHenib.ibiM, npn
Hy3t,'i;eHHbiu, naTHHy-
TwS; to — en, A*-iaTb
TyrilMTj HJIH SteCTKIlM'b,
stifle, 3a;iymaTb.
still, Tnxiil, CMnpHbifi,
cnoKofinbi8; eme^ Bce
e^^e, npn bccm-b to>ii>,
HO cnx-b nop'b, Bcer^a;
HO, ojHaKo; to be — ,
MOJiHaxb; to grow — ,
yTHxaxb: to sit — , ch-
;^'feTb CMHpHO, He xpo-
raxbCH CB Mtcxa ; —
nesSjMOjqajiHBOCTb; —
room raaid,ropHHHHaH.
stimulate, Bosfiyacaaxb,
noompHXb.
stipend, ataJioBaHie,
OKjaAt .
stipulation, nocxaHOBjre-
Hie.
stir, ii;BnHteHie, nieBejie-
Hie, BOJiHeeie, Bos^iiy-
menie, MaTea;!); to — ,
Mtmaxb (yrojba).
stirrup, CTpewa.
Stitcb, CTeH'Ka; to — ,
cxeraxb, uiHxb.
stock, sanacT).
stocking, MyjioK-B.
stolen, xailHbiH; cm. xrk-
ase to steal.
stomach, Htejiy/^OK'b.rH'feB'L,
cep^[^e.
stone, EaMeHbj KaMCH-
Hbiil; — dead, coBep-
mCHHO MepXBblfl.
stony, KaMeHHbifi, Kane-
HHCXBlS.
stood, CM. stand,
stool, CKaMCHKa, no^HO-
Htie.
stoop, HarnSaxBCa, chhc-
xo^nxb.
stop, ocxanoBKa, npe-
HHxcxBie, noMixa, xoq-
Ka; to
ocxaHaBJ[ii-
Baxb
ch; stop! CX08! to —
one's ears, saxBiitaxb
yniH.
store; sanacB.
storm, fiypn; a — of
thunder and lightning,
rposa; to — . uixopMo-
Baxb, 6paxB npHCxy-
nOMx; — ish, — y,
6ypHbiS.
story, HOBtcxb, pasKasTj,
CKasKa, araas'B; there
is a courious — told,
pasKasBiBaiox-B .iroSo-
OBlXHBlS aHCKJIiOXX.
stout, MyffiecxBeHHBift,
AOiffiifi.
stove, ncHKa.
stow, yKjiaii;BiBaTB, na-
rpyataxB.
a straggling line, pac-
THHyxaa JiHHiH.
straight, npasioS; npniio.
strain, tojiocb, nibcHa,
xoHT)-, to — , HanparaxB
ci^Jibi, HanparaxBca.
strait, ysniM; ^s, npo-
JTHB-B.
strand, Ceper-b (jiop-
CKoS), Ha6epea5Haa.
strange, cxpannBiii, yAH-
BHxejibHbifi; — r, ny-
ffiofl, HesnaKOMbiS, ne-
3HaK0Mei];'B; — 's gal-
,ery, rajiepea ji^sa. ny-
JKHX-B HJiH rocxefi.
stratagem, BoeHHaaxax-
pocxb.
strath, AOJUHa.
straw, coJiOMa; — co-
loured, najieBBiM; —
covered, cojiomohd no-
KpBlXBlii.
stray, 6poAnxB; a — ed
dog, saS'feataBraaa co-
5aKa.
streak, nojoca.
stream, hoxok-b, ptKa;
to — , cxpynxbca, xenb,
pa-SBtBaxbcaj — er,
BbiMneJ'B.
street, jjivma, yjiHHHHfi;
— corner, yrojiT. yjiH-
r(Bi; — door, A^epB b-b
yjiHiiiy, napaAHaa Asepb.
strength, CHJia; from
the — , b-b CH.iy; to —
en, yKptnjiaxB, ycHJTH-
Baxb.
strenuously, ropaio.cHJEb-
HO.
stretch, pacxarHBaxB, pac-
npocxnpaxb, pacxonti-
pnsaxB, iipocxnpaxbca;
to — out, pacnpocxH-
paxbca; to lie — ed
— 429 —
out, Jteffiaxb pacTSHyB-
lUHCB.
strew, CBinaxb, p;i3Cbi-
naxb; to — about, pa3-
cbinaTb; to — with, ycbi-
naxb.
strewn, cm. strew.
strict, CTporifi, TOMHbifi;
— ]y, CTporo; — ness,
CTporocTb.
strike, nopaiKaTb, y;^a-
paxb, 6Hxb, nona/;axb,
y/i,apaxbca, Ha6*!Kaxb,
HaxKHyxbca iia Mejbj
to— any one a blow,
HaHOcnxb' KOJiy y/i;apt;
to — a fire, BbicfeKaxb
orOHb; to— away, ox-
6nBaxbca; to -- through,
npomwCaxb.
striking, nopasnxejiKHbiS.
string, xexHBa (yjiyica).
strip, nojiocKa, Ji^CKy-
xoK-b; to — , odnastaxb,
jiHnjaTb Hcro, pasj^lfe-
Baxbca; to — off, ckh-
j(WBaxb.
strive, CHJiaxbca, ycHJiH-
BaxbCfi, cxapaxbCK, 60-
pOXbCH, C0CXH3aXbCJI,
stroke, yAapi>; to — , nia-
flHXb, UOFJiaJKHBaXb; 1
could not swim a -■ ,
a He moftj no/i;aBaxbCfi
Bnepeai) hh Ha o^hht.
pasMax-b.
strong. KptnKiS, CHJib-
hhM, xBepRbiM; a —
resemblance, Sojibiiioe
CXOACXB05 — box, Hte-
jtSHbiS cyHRyKt; —
ly, CHJIbHO.
strove, CM. strive,
strewed, cm strew,
strewn, CM. storw.
struck, nopameHHbiS, cm.
strike.
structure, SAanie.
struggle, 6opb6a; to—,
CopoxbCH.
stud, yitpamaTb, ycw-
naxb.
study, yienie, nsyieHie,
HayKa, KaSnHext; to
— , saHUMaxbCJi (iiay-
itaMH), y^iHXbca, 06-
yHaxbca b-b yHHsepcH-
xex-h, Hsyiaxb, paafiH-
paxb, oSflyMbiBaxb.
stuff, Maxepia, xitanb,
MaxepiajiT).
stumble, ciiOTWitaxbcn;
to— on, uaxKHyxbCH.
stumbling-stone, KaMenb
npeTKHOBeuiff.
stump, Kyjibxa,
stun, orJiyiTiaib.
stupendous, orpoMHbift,
HsyMHxejibHbiii.
stupidity, rjynocxb; 6e3-
TOJIKOBOCXb.
sturdy, sAopoBbia, ^lo-
ffiiii, ynopHbiS.
style, cjiori. (apxHxeK-
xypHbifi), cxHJib; to — ,
HaSblBaXb, HaHMeHOBbl-
Baxb.
subdue, npeoAO.i'feBaxb,
no6l5!KAaxb, noKopaxb,
yKpomaxb.
subject, no/i;AaHHbii1,npeA-
Mex-b , xcMa ; no/i;-
B.iiacxHH8j noABepatHbiS,
noAJieiKainiM; to — ^nop;-
Bepraxb; —ion, noKO-
pcHie.
subjugation, noKopenie.
sublime, BosBbimeKHbifi,
BbicnpeuHbiS, BejiHie-
CXBCHHuS.
submerge, aaxonjiaxb.
submission, noKopaocxb,
nocjymaHie.
submissive, noKopHbiH,
noKop hbhM.
submit, npeftaBaxb, npeff-
jtaraxb, noitopaxbca,
noABepraxbca,
subordinate, noAinHen-
Hbll^, HH3UiarO ROCXOHH-
cxBa.
subsequently, hoxom-b,
nocjilfe.
subsidies, cyGcHftiH, ^e-
HejKHoe nocoSie.
subsistence, nponiixaaie.
substance, Beu:(ecxB0,
cymnocxb, coflepjKaHie.
SUbstitufe, saMtnaxb.
noAM'tHHBaxb , noRJio-
JKHXb.
suburb, npesMtcxie.
succeed, nocjrfeAOBaxb,
nacjiliAOBaTb, 6wxb
npeeMHHKOMi, , ycn*-
BaTb,yAaBaxbca, HM'fexb
ycntxt.
success, ycntxij, yAana;
— ful, ycntniHbiS; —
fully, ycn'£inno, yAa'i-
Ho; —ion, paATj, lepe-
AOBofi nopaAOKT,, na-
cjilfeAie, Hac.i'hAOBaHie
(npecxo.)ia); — ion to
the throne, npecxojio-
HacilfeAie; in — ion,
cpa^y; — ive, nocjitAO-
BaxejibHbm; — ively,
nocJchAOBaxejibHo; — or,
npecMHHKt, Hacji'fiA-
HHKTb.
succour, noMon^b, noA-
Kpt.iiJieHie.
such, xaKoS, xaKOB-B, xa-
KOBoH} as — , caMT. no
ce6'fe; —as, xanoS Ka-
Koft, xaKoft KOXOpblft,
T'k Koxopwe.
sudden, BHe3anHbiM, He-
offiiiAaHHbiS; on a — ,
all of a — , — ly, Bne-
3anH0, BApyrij. •
Suetonius, CBexonia.
— 430 —
SUfffir, CTpa;i,aTB, npexep-
ntBETb, ff03B0JiaTt; —
er, CTpaAajiei];i); — ing,
CTpa/;aHie.
suffice, StiTb 3,0CTaT0H-
KHMT., CTaTb Ha ^ITO.
sufficient, AOCTaTOHHafi ;
ly, AOCTaTOHHO.
suffocate, sa^ynjaTb, 3a-
AbixaTbca.
suffrage, roJiocb (npn H3-
SHpania).
sugar, caxapt; — basin,
caxapHHi],a;— ^cane, ca-
XapHblft TpOCTHHK'b; —
tongs, ii],nni;bi gJiR ca-
xapy.
suggest, HaRoyMtBaxb ,
BHymaTb,
suit , iipafiop'b, nojiHoe
HHCJio; a — of clothes,
nojiHoe HJiaTbCj napHATb;
to — , npHHopasJiHBaTb,
rORHTbC3 , COOTBiTCTBO-
Baxb, corjiacoBaTbCH ;
to — to any one's mind,
yroAHTb KOiiy; this piece
will — your taste ,
stottj Kycoicb 6y/^eT'b
BaMTj no BKycy; — able,
npujiHMHbiH, coo5pa3-
Hblfi , COOTBllTCTBeH-
Hbifi; — ably, cooTBtT-
CTBCHHO.
suite, cBHTa.
sultan, cyjiTRHi..
sultry, JKapKiM,3H0fiHblS,
HyuiHbiS.
sum, cyaiMa; to— up the
evidence, cjHiHXb BCfe
noKasaHiH.
summer, ji^to; jitTHift;
in the
JltTOM'bj a
— ■ s morning, .lixHee
yTpo.
summon, 3BaTb, npurjia-
oiaib, cosMBaxb, xpe-
6oBaTb (c;i;aHH) ; — s,
TpeSoBaflie.
sumptuous^ nbiniHbifi.
sun, cojiHi^e; — dial, coji-
HeiBbie Hacbi; — down,
— set, 3axoffiAeHie cojih-
i^a; — rise, Bocx03K/i;e-
Hie cojHu;a.
Sunday, BOCKpecenie.
in sunder, na ABoe, no-
nojiaM'b.
sung, CM sing,
sunk, CM. sink..
sup, yffiHHaxb} — per,
yatHHt.
superb, BejiHKOJi'fenHbiM,
BejiMHaBbiii.
superintend, HaASHpaxb,
HaSjiOAaTb sa, npncMa-
TpHBaxb sa ; — ence ,
rjraBHbili naASop'b.
superior, Ha-^iajibHHifb, Ha-
CTOHXeJIbj BepXHifi,BHC-
miii, SojibmiH; — , ■ —
to, npeBOCxoAan^ifi; to
be — 10, npeBbirnaxb,
npeBocxoAnxb ; — ity,
npcBOCxoACXBO.
supersede, saMtHaxb.
superstition, cyeBtpie.
superstitious, cyeBtpHbifi.
supplant, BblXtCHflXb.BW-
atHBaxb.
supplementary, npnea-
BoqHwti.
supply, AOCxaBKa, Aocxa-
Bjiefiie, 3anac'b, noco-
6ie, cpe^cxBaj noflKpt-
njicHie ; to — ^ cnaS-
ffiaxb, AOcxaBJflXb, 3a-
nacaxb, Aonojinaxb, no-
Moraxb, ycxpanaxb; to
— the place, saMt-
Haib
support, nOAuopa,onopa,
noMOiu;b; for — .'ixoSt
He ynacxb; to — , noj;-
nupaxb, noAAcpiEHBaxb,
coAepataxb nponHXH-
Baxb; — er, mnxoAcp-
isaxejib.
suppose, nojiaraxb, npe^-
nojiaraxb.
supposition, npeAnojiOffie •
Hie.
supremacy , BepxoBHaa
BJiacFb, nepBCHCXBO.
supreme, BepxoBHbiS,
suppress, yxyuiaxb, ^ y-
Kpomaxb, yAcpatHBaxb,
ocxanaBJiHBaxb, yuaji-
qHBaxb.
sure, BtpHbiMjHaAeJKHHS,
Hcnorp't]i!HxejibHHii;Ha-
ACHfHO; — enough, b-b
CaMOMTa A*-ii*j I 31^ — )
n yBtpeHTj^ be — not
to forget, cMoxpHxe ne
3a6yAbxeI he is — to
wake him, ohtj ne-
npeMiHHO ero pa36y-
AHX'b; to be — , kohci-
HO ; — ly, HaBtpHO ,
KOHeqHO.
surf, SypyHrb no 6epery
0JIH no KaMHH).
surface, noBepxHocxb.
surge, 3bi6b, xojiqefl, (bo-
AHHOli) BaJE-b.
surgeon, xHpyprt.
surly, yrpioMbifi, orpbi3-
JEHBblH.
surmount, npeoROJr'tBaxb,
npeBbiaiaxb.
surname, nposHBaxb.
surpass, npeBOCXOAHXb,
npeBbiuiaxb.
surprise, surprize, yah-
BJienie, HsyiijteHie, ae-
HaHHHOe HanaACHie; to
— HeiaHHEo HanaAaxb
Ha Koro; — d yAHWJieH-
HbiS; to be — d, YAH-
BJiaxbca.
surprising , yAHBHxejib-
Hblfi, HSyMHXeJIbHUS.
431 —
sarrender, cAaia; to — ,
c;^aBaTb, c;i;aBaTbCH,no-
KopHTbca; he summon-
, ed to — ,OH'b TpeSoBajiT)
c/taiH.
surround, oicpysjaTb.
survey, o6o3p1;BaTt, ocMa-
TpHBaTb.
survive, nepeHtHBaTi.;— r,
nepeffiHBaroiniM, ocxa-
lOmificn Wh JKHBBIX'b.
suspect, nOAOSptBaTb, o-
nacaTbCfl, fioHTbCJi.
suspend, BtmaTb, npe-
Kpamaxb.
suspension bridge, bhch-
Hift HJIH U.'fenHOii MOCTTj.
suspicion , no/i.osp'fiHie ;
having no — , ne no-
AOsptBaa.
sustain, noARepjKHBaxb,
npe.Tepn'ftEaTb, noHe-
CTH (noTepio).
swallow, nporJiaTbiBaTb.
swam, CM. swim,
swamp, 60J10T0.
SWan;Jie5eRb;jie6eAHHwfi,
jieSaatift.
swarm , poHTbCH , kh-
mtTb , EonbiniHTbca ,
TOJinHTbCfl.
swarthy, cMyrjiwa.
sway, BJia3*Hie, npasjie-
Hie, BJiacTb, BJiianie.
swear, npHcamxb, npii-
BOAHTb Kt npnear-fe,
KJIflCTbCH_605KHTbCH; tO
— ■upon,KJiacTbCfl HlfeMx;
to be sworn, npnca-
raxb.
sweat, noTT.1
Sweden, Ulsenis.
Swedish, niBeRCKifi.
sweep, xpySoHHCx'b; to
— MecxH BWMexaxb,
MHaxbca; to — away,
yHOCHXb , noxHinaxb ;
to — down, CHOCHxb;
to — out, Kbimexaxb;
— er, Mexa.ibmHK'b.
sweet, cjaAiciil, npiflT-
HbiS, jjhjtwh; to — en;
ycjaffi^aTb; — temper-
ed, upoxitiM
swell, npnCbiBanie, 3b]6b,
BOJiHeiiie; to — , nyx-
Hyxb, Ha^yBaxbca, Ha^;-
jieBaxbCfl, nbimHxbCfl,
yBejiHinBaxbCfl, yBejH-
HHBaXb.
swept, CM. sweep.
swift, uiHfiKiii, 6bicxpbiiJ,
CKopbiFi; — ]y, uih6ko,
Obicxpo; — ness, 6bi-
cxpoxa, CKopocxb.
swim, njiasaxb; to — for
^ one's life, cnacxncb
BnjiaBb ; — mer, njo-
Beii;'B.
swine, ciiHHba.
swing, Maxaxb, icanaxb,
KanaxbCfl.
swoon, Bna^axb bt. 06-
MOpOKt.
sword, ivieHt, mnara; —
in hand, cb MeHeMt
btj pyicfe; to put to the
— CM. put.
swore, CM. swear.
sworn, CM. swear.
swum, CM. swim.
swung, CM. swing.
sympathize, co6oji1i3ho-
Baxb, coiyBcxBOBaxb.
sympathy , co^yBcxBie ,
CHMnaxia.
symptom, npnaHaK-i.
system, cwcxeMa;— build-
ing, npiiBeAeHie bti ch-
cxeMy.
T.
table, cTOJi'b.
tackle, rajTH.
taffrail, raKaSopx-B.
tail, xbocxij.
tailor, uopxHoft.
take, B3nxb, 6paxB, npH-
HHMaXb, HOCHTb, BO-
3HXb, BCCXH, SaBJaA*-
Baxb ; — your bread
and cheese with us,
oxitymauTe cb naMH;
— your seat, ca^Hxecb;
do you — sugar, ubexe
Jiii Bbi (nafi, K04e) Cb
caxapOMi,? it would — ,
noxpe6Ho6'b fibiJio; I
was — n off the barge,
H 6Bi.in, Bsax'b cb 6ap-
!KW) their project had
— n wind.saMBicji'L Hxt
npoHioxaJiii : the alarm
-:-n, xpeBora nponsse-
^eHHaa hjih iipHHHHeH-
Haa; what will you —
to eat, 4X0 Bbi acejia-
exe Kymaxb ? to —
across, nepeB03HXb, ne-
penpaBJiaxb; to — ad-
vantage
of, noJib3o-
Baxbca h'Sm'b; to — aim,
npui^ibJiuBaxbca; io — a
nap, cocHyxb; to — an
oath, AaBaxb hjih yqn-
Haxb npncary, npnca-
raxb; to — any one's
life, Jinmnxb ituro skhs-
hh; to — any one's part,
npHcxaBaxb k^ HBeii
CTopoH t ; to — any one's
place, 3anHMaxB HBe mIj-
cxoj to— any one's pic-
ture,CHHMaxB nopxpext
CB Koro; to — a peep,
rjia^trb yicpaAKOio; to
— arms,n0AHaxb,6paxb-
ca 3a opyfflie; to — a
run over the island,
nepcSliJKaxB npes-B 0-
cxpoBTi; to — a seat,
caRHTBca; to — a step,
npHuaxb sffepy; to — a
view, ocMaxpHBaxB ; to
432 —
— a walk, nporyjiH-
BaTbca; to ^- away, y-
Snpaxb, OTHHMaTb; to
— away the reproach,
nsSaBJiHTb otij nape-
KaHifl; to — by surprise,
HacTiiPHyTb Bi. pac-
njioxTj; to
care, 6e-
peHbCH; to — care of,
neinHCb , 3a6oTHTbCfl;
to — dinner, oOtftaTb;
to — down, CHimaTb,
cxajiKHBaTb; to — exer-
cise, fl;'fejiaTb MOu.ioH'b;
to — fire, saropaxbCfl;
to— from, CHHMaxb ct,
OTHHliaTb HTO y KOFOJ
to— hold of, saBJia/^tTb
HfiMt; to — in, npnHH-
MaTb, Bnycitaxb, b6u-
paTb} to — in execu
tion, KOH^HCKOBaTb; to
— notice. samcfeyaTb; !
oopamaxb BHHMame; to i
— occasion , nojibso- ]
Baxbca cjiyqaeM'Bj to — j
off, cHHJiaxb; to — off I
any one's likeness ,
CHHMaxb nopxpexxj cb
Koro) to — on, xocko-
Baxb; to — one's advice,
cjiyniaxb neu. jnOo co-
Btxi., cjyiuaxb Koroj
to — one's ease, oxabi-
xaxb; to — one's re-
venge on , oxjin^axb
KOMy (sa); to — one's
stand, cxaxb, sanaxb
Mtcxo; to — orders,
ECxynaxb btj /i,yxoBHOe
ssaHie; to — out, buhh-
Maxb} to — pains, xpy-
flHTbca, cxapaxbCH,6paxb
Ha ce6a xpy^-b; to —
pity, catajiuTbCH; to — j
place , npoHCXOAHTb ,
cjiyiaxbcfl, CuBaxb ; to
pleasure, Haxosflxi. y-
ftOBOJibcxBie', to — poi-
son, oxpaBJi/ixbCH; to
— possession, saBJia-
fltnaxb; to — prisoner,
RSRTb Bt HJltHt; to —
refuge, acnaxb yQiam-
n\e, npiioxHXbca; to —
rest, oxAbixaxb; to —
revenge, mcxiixb, ot-
iin^axb; to — shelter,
HCEaxb ySisKHme, CKpH-
BaxbCfl] to — tea, naii
nuxt; to — the lead,
Obixb npejiBOftHxejieMTb
HjiH BOJKfl.eMt; to — the
opportunity , nojibso-
BaxbCfl cJiynaeM'Bj to —
the place of any one,
sanHMaxb ibe Mtcxo;
to — the shortest way,
usOupaxb 6aHffiaiiiDyio
Sopory, txaxb no 6.iu-
ffiaiimeii ftoporij to —
time, Tpe5oBaxb Bpe-
jyieaH; to — to, Spaxbca
3a, ySnpaxbca; to — to
another trade, Bsaxbca
sa Apyroe peMecjio; to
— to flight, oopainaxb-
ca btj 6'l3rcxBO) to — to
jail, caaaxb Bt xiopb-
My; to — to one's heels
nycxHxbCfl 6tataxb, Ha-
Bocxpiixb JiwatH} to —
to pi-eces, pasSiipaxt,
pasHHJiaxb; to — to the
road, cfttJiaxbca pa3-
CofiHUKOMt; to — to
na
up, no/i;HH-
Maxb, saBOftHXb, nain-
Haxb; to — up one's
night's lodging, noce-
.IHXbCfl Ha H04b; to —
up one's residence,
nocejiHXbca.
taken, cm. take.
wife , HteHHTbCii
KoMT); to
tale, noBicxb, pascnaat,
CKasKa.
talent, ;i,apoBOHie, Aapt,
xajianxTj.
talisman, xajmcMaat.
talk, pasroBopi.: to — ,
roBopaxb, pasroBapn-
Baxb.
tall, BblCOKii^, BUCOKO-
pOCJIblfl.
tallow, cajio.
Tally-ho, oxoxHuqifi
KJEHKIj, KOXOpblM-B 6y-
Aaxi> coSaKij.
tame, pynHofi, cmhphwh;
to — ^ yKpomaxb, ycMH-
paxb, oSysawbaxb; —
ness, pyiHoe cocxoa-
Hie.
tankard, KpyatKa (nutio-
maa KpHQJEy).
tap, KpaHt (y So^kh);
to — , xpenaxb, xiOKaxb}
to — on the shoulder,
xpenaxb no ojie^y.
taper, EOCKOBaa cBiia.
tapestry, o5oh, mnajie-
pbl.
tar, cuojia, xHpTi, Jia-
xpocT.; — pawling,
Speseiixt.
Tarquin, TapKBUHiS.
tarry, npo5biBaxb, ocxa-
- Baxbca.
tart, xopxT..
tartan, xapxaui. (iia-
xepia).
task, saAaHHaa poSoxa,
ypoKT., sanaxie, ooh-
saiiHOCxb; to — , safta-
Baxb ypoKt HJIH pa-
6oxy.
tassel, KUCXb, KHCXO^Ka.
taste, BKyc-b, BKymeHie,
CKJiOHHOCxb; to — , no-
npo6oBaxb.
tasting, BKyct.
taught, cm. teach.
433 —
taunting, uonpeKaTcm.-
tavern, rpaKTHpi); —
chair, cxyjiT) btj xpaK-
THpt.
tax, flaHb, nojiiaTi), xait-
ca; to — any one with,
o6BHHaTb Koro BtMeMt;
— ation, HajtosEGHie no-
/^aiefi, o6ji05KeHie no-
;i;aTtio, Ha^iort.
tea, H&u] HauHtiM; —
things, qaMnbift npH-
eopt.
teach, yqHTb, Hayqaxt; —
— ableness, nepenMiH-
BOCTb.
teakwood, /Eej^siioe ^e-
peBO, THK'B.
team, ynpajKb; a — of
cattle, napa bojiobi..
tear, cjiesa.
tear, pBaxb, pas^Hpaxb;
to — at full gallop,
CKaicaxb BO bck) npwxb;
to — away, nonecxii;
to — down, c/i;ripaxb,
noBajinxb; to — fi'om,
cpbiBaxb ; to — off,
oxopBaxbj to — one's
self away, BwpbiBaxL-
ca; to — out, sbipbiBaxb;
to — to pieces, pasop-
Baxb btj itycKH.
tedious, CKyjHHii , xa-
rocxHbiii.
tell, citasbiBaxb, roBO-
pHXb,_pacKa3biBaxb; to
—fortunes, ra^axb.
temper, HpaB^b.
temperature, xeiiaepa-
xypa.
tempest, Gypa, iiixopinb.
temple, xpaMii, bhcokt).
temporal, BpeMenHoS,
CBfiXCKiM.
tempt, COSjiaSHflTb, HC-
Kyuiaxb , no6y)Kftaxb,
npoCoBaxb, nbixaxbca;
— ation, HCKymeHie,
ten, secaxb; — fold, a^-
caxepH'JHwfi; — th, /i;e-
CHXblft.
tenacious of, ynopno
cxoau;iii 3a.
tend, CMOXpllXb 3a E'fiM'b
njiii HtM-b, KJionnxbca,
cxpeMHXbca, cjiyatHxbj
— ency, luoHenie^
cxpeMjenie.
tender, MyBcxBHxejtbHbiMj
HtjKHbiS, 3a6oxjiHBbiii;
to — one's life, ro-
poffiHxb )KU3Hiioj~hear'
tedness, MarKocep/i,eqie.
tennis, nrpa B3. MaHHKH.
tenor, tenour, npo/i;ojiffie-
Hiej — of life, jKusHb,
oSpaSTj 3KH3HH.
tent, najiaxKa, xcHxt.
term, CJIOBO, XepMBHt,
BbipaaieHie, ycjiOBie,
^oroBopii, cpoKt, Bpe-
Ma; friendly — s, ;i;py-
^KecxBeHHbia cnomeHiaj
the — of life^ npo^oji-
;«PixeJibHOcxb simsum;
to — , Hapeitaxb, nasw-
Baxb; to— inate, OKan-
MHBaxb, npcKpamaxbcaj
— ination, oKaHHHBa-
Hie, itpafi, KOHeu;'b.
terrestrial, 3eMH0H.
terrible, terrific, yatac-
HbiS, cxpauiHbifi. /
terrify, ycxpamaxb.
territory, o5jiacxb, BJia-
j^tnie, sewjia.
terror, yacact^ cxpaxT..
test, Hcnbixaaie; to put
to the — , HcnpoQoBHXb,
HcnbixbiBaxb; to — , nc-
nbixHBaxb.
thriving, ycntmHwfi.
throne, npecxoai., xpoHt;
testify, cBi^txejibcxBo-
Baib, noKasbiBaxb.
testimony,cBH/i;'fexejbcxBo;
to bear one's — , cbh-
Rlbxe^LcxBOBaxb.
Teutonic, TcBxoHCKifi
asbiK'b.
text, xeKCxi,.
Thames, Teiisa.
than, HeateJiH, H'feM'b;
more — three, Sojite
xpexTij without any
other reward — , Sesrb
Bcaitaro p;pyraro na-
rpaffi/i;eHia EpoMi.
thane, (aHrjiocaKCOHCKiS)
6apoH'ij; — dom, Ca-
ponia, npaBJienie.
thank, 6jaro;^apHXb; —
heaven, — God, cjiaBa
Bory, 6jiaro/i;apa Bora;
I will — you for, a
nonpomy y Bacb; — s,
6jiaro,!i;apHocxb.
that, xoxt, Bxoxt; Ko-
xopbifi; Hxo; mh. those,
xt.
thatch, EpoBCjibHaa co-
jiOMa.
that's, CM, that is.
the, HJient onpefl.; xoxx.,
axoxt; — .. — itMi...
XtMI..
theatre, xeaxpt, nonpa-
ji\e, cii,eHa.
thee, xe5a, xeG*,
theft, Kpaaia, BopoBCXBO.
their, hxt., — s, hx-b,
CBOfi.
them, mxtj, HMt; with — ,
cb co5om; — selves,
caMH, OHH caMF, ceoa.
theme, xejra, 3a;i,aMa,
xesnct.
then, xor;i;a, b'b xoBpeiia,
noxbH-b, nocjit, btj xa-
KOMT) cjiyia'fe, H xaKT);
till — , /i;o xoro spe-
55
^>
434
Mena; — ce, OTTy/i;a — ;
ceforth, CBT'fex'B nopi>,
B^pe;^I..
theological, SorocjioBCKifi.
theology, SorocaoBie.
theory, Teopin,
there, xaM-B; — , — is?
BOTt! Ha! — is, — are,
eCTb, HMieTCa, HMlfelOT-
ca; — was not, He
6hSZo; — fore, cji-fe/iioBa-
TejibHO, no STOMy.
these, CM. this.
Theseus, cm. TeseM.
they, OHH, oyt) — wliOj
— that, Ti KOTopHe.
they're, cm, they are.
thick, ToamHHa, cpe-
flHHa; TOJICTHJH, TOJimH-
HOio, rycToM; — and
tliin, 1T0 6bi HH no-
naao; — ness , tojt-
mHHa.
thief, Bop-B.
thigh, jraniKa, 6e;^po.
thin, TOHKiM, CKyflHHft,
Tomifi, xyftomaBbifi,—
ly, CKyAHO.
thine, tboS.
thing, Bemb, R'fejio, co3-
Ranie, TBapb.
think, flyMaTbjHOAyMaTb,
nojiaraTb, KasaTbca,
cjHTaTb, noMbinijiHTb,
HaM'tpesaTbCH; to —
lightly of, npiiHHMaTb
cjierKa; — ing, Mbim-
jienie.
third, TpcTiSj a— ,TpeTb;
to — a request, ycH-
jiHTb npocbSy} — ly,
BTj TpeTbHXTb.
thirst, jEaffi^Ei; — y, fflaHt-
/^yI^iu, ajiHymifi; to be
— y for, HiaffiflaTb, aji-
Kaxb Hero,
thirteen, TpHHafli^aTb.
thirtieth, Tpm]i,u,a'ihi&.
thirty, TpH;i;i^aTb.
this, STOTt, ceM; mh.
these, 9th; in — manner,
TaKHMT) 05pa30M1),
— day , cerosHHuiHifi
^eHbj - year, HbiHtm-
Hifi TOU'b.
thither, Ty^a.
Thomas, 6oMa.
thorn, KOJHo^Ka, nrjia;
to be on— s, 6biTb Ha
um^ibflx'b.
thorough, cOEepmeHHbifi,
nojiHbiH; — fare, npo-
xoAtj npofiSAt; — ly,
coBepmeHHo.
those, CM. that,
thou, Tbj.
though, xoTiij o;^HaKO,
oftHaKO atejas — ,6y/i;T0,
6y/\To 5bi.
thought, MWCJIb, BHHMa-
Hie, pa3cyHt/i;eHie; cat.
TaKste think,
thousand, Tbica'ja.
thrash, MOJioxHTb, 6HTb,
KOJIOTHTb.
thread, HHXb; to — , npo-
6npaTbCH.
threat, yrposa; to— en,
rpoSHTbj yrposKaxb.
three, xpn;— and twenty,
/i;Ba/i,u;aTb xpn; — decker,
Tpex'b•;^e'^HbI^ Kopa6jib,
—pence, xpn neHca;—
score, niecxb/i;ecaxb.
threshold, nopori..
threw, CM. throw.
thrice, xpa paaa, TpnaEt/i,bi.
thrifty , sKOHOMHwii ,
ycH'feBaiomifi.
thrilling , HaBOflamiii
cxpax-b, Gpocaioiniii b-b
Apoffib., cxpainHbifi.
thrive, ycntBaxt, npey-
cnlfeBaxb.
thriving, ycnfeinnuft.
throne, npecxojii., xpoHi);
the — of human felicity,
Bepxi> le.iOB'feHecKaro
ciacxia.
throng, xojina, xlscHOxa;
friendship's — , ffpyate-
cxBeHHaa csasb; to -,
XlfeCHHXb , CX'feCHflXb,
xtcHHXbca, xojnHTbca;
are — ed with, 6hx-
KOMB Ha6HXbI.
through, lepes-b, cKB03b,
ox'b; — out, BO secb,
no BceMy, no Bceft,
BesA*.
throw, 6pocaxb, KH;i;axb,
CBajiHBaxb; to — about,
pa36pacbiBaxb ; to —
away, ox6pacMBaxb; to
— from, cSpacHBaxb;
to — into any one's way,
no^GpacuBaxb, no^KH-
/],biBaxb KOMy; to— into
confusioUi to — into
perplexity, npHBo;i;Hib
B-b CMymenie, 03a;^a-
HHBaxb; to — into dis-
order, IipHBOflHXb Bt
0e3nopa/i;oK'i>; to — off,
cSpacwBaxb, oxSpacbi-
Baxb; to — one's arm
around any one, 06-
HHMaxb Koro; to —
out a hint, HaMenaxb
Ha Hxo; to — up, na-
cbinaxb, Konaxb, r*-
.aaxb; to — wide open,
pacxBopaxb Hacxeatbj
to — words away, xe-
pflTb cjiORa.
thrown, cm. throw.
thrust, xoJiKaxb; to —
into, BXbiKaxb} to —
through, npoKaauBaxb,
npoxbiKaxb.
thumb, Mapaxb najibi^aHH,
nepejiHCXWBaxb.
thump, xysHxb, xojiKaxb,
KOJIOXHXb.
— 435 —
thander, rpoMt; to —
rpejilbTb, pasAaBaTbCH;
— shower, ROiK^b cb
rpo30io ; — storm,
rpo3a.
Thursday, neTBepn,.
thus, TaKTj, axaKi), ra-
KHM-b ofipasoMT).
thwart, 6aHKa rpefiei;-
Kaa; to—, nonepeinxb,
npOTHBOCTOHTb.
thy, TBofi; — self, Tbi
caMT., ce6a, ceSi.
tidal, HBitiomiS npajiHBi)
il OTJHB'b, npHJlHBHblS.
tide.npnjiHBi), Te^eHie; —
river, plbKa HuliioinaH
npHJIHEt H OT.IHBTj.
tidings, HSBtcxia, HO-
BOCTII.
tie, npHBHSbiBaTb; — up,
npHBHSHBaXb, CBHSbl-
Baxb.
tiger, THrpt.
tile, Kpwxb HepenumaMH.
till, until, ffo, AO TOro,
nOEa, ;^o xtxi. nopt
noKa.
till, B033;'feJibiBaxb, na-
xaxb; —age, o6pa6o-
TbiBanie, BOSA'fijibiBa-
Hie, naxaaie; — er, bo3-
atjibiBaxejib.
tilt, cpaataxbCH bi xyp-
HHp'fc; — ing, 6oH B'b
TypHHpt; match of —
ing, xypHHp-b.
timber, expoeBoH jitcb.
time, Bpejia, nopa, pas-b,
Mtpa, xaKxt; at a — ,
Bftpyrt, Bt O/tHO H xo-
3Ke BpcMflj once upon
a — , OAHasAW, KO^/^a-
TO; — ]y, yMtcxHbiS.
tin, OJIOBO; OJOBHHHblS.
tinge^ KpaCHXb, OTXtHH-
Baxb , HanHXHBaxb;
every well bred cheek
was — d with confu-
sion, y BCtxt fijiaro-
BOCnHXaHHbIXT> SWU.'b
saropiJiHCb meKH oxtj
cxbi/i,a.
tingle , niyjj'fexb (bt.
ymaxTb).
tiny, KpouieqHbifi.
tire, ycxasaxb; — d,
ycxajibifi; they were —
d of, HMt HacKyiHjn).
't is, 'tis, CM. it is,
tissue, TitaHb, CBasb, d^ta-
jieaie.
tithe, ffecaxan rojih, Re-
caxHHa; RecaxHHHbifi.
title, sarjiaBie, xrixyji-b,
npexeHsia, npaBo.
titter, xHKaxb, ayKaso
CMiaxbca.
titular, noHeTHbifi, XH-
xyjiapHbiit, no xHxyjry.
to, K-B, flo, B'b, na, ;^:^a,
no; HxoSbi; osHanaexTi
;^ax, na^eafb: — you,
BaMi.; SHaKT. neoK.
HaKJi.: —ask, cnpocnxb.
toast , noAajapeHHbiu
XJltfit.
tobacco, VaSaKTi.'
to-day, ceroAHa.
toe, najieu;!. Ha HOrt,
together, BM'fecxt, cpaAy.
toil, xpyATi, MHOroxpy-
Aie; to — , xpyAHXbca,
MyiHXbca; to — down,
xamHxbca bkhs-b; to —
through, CB xpyAOJi'b
npoSapaxbca cKBOSb;
by hard and long— ing,
xaiKEOK) H npoAOjatH-
xejibHOK) 6opb6oio.
toilet, xyajiex-b.
token, SHaKT..
told, CM. tell.
tolerate, xepn^xb.
toleration, xepnHMocxb.
toll, nouiJiHHa, AopofflHaa
noniJiHHa; to — , 8bo-
H0Xb B'B noxopOHHbift
KOJiOKOJi't) — bar, mjiar-
•CayM-B; — free, 6e3noui-
jiHHHbifi, He njaxamiS
nomjiHHbi; — man,
nomjiHHHHK'B, c6op-
mnK-B nOUIJIHH'B.
Tom, GoMKa.
tomb, MOFHjra rpo6'B.
to-morrow, saBxpa.
ton, xoHHa (62 nyAa);—
nage, rpysi. (cyAHa).
tone, TOH'B, rojocb.
tongs, ^;^^^bI.
tongue, asbiK'B, Hap'feqie.
tonsure, xoHcypa, no-
cxpHHteflie.
too, cjiniuKOM-B, xaKffie,
npnxoM'B.
took, (?M. take.
tooth, 3j6'b; —ache, 3y6-
Haa fiojibj MHOHt. teeth,
3y5bi H syfiba (y nii-
jibi) ; elephants' teeth,
CJOHOBbie KJIblKH.
top, Bcpx'B, BepmHHa,
noBcpxHOCTb, Ky6apb,
BOJTHCK'B, MapCB; BCpX-
Hifi; from — to toe, cb
rojiOBbi AO Hor-B} who
stood at the — , koxo-
pbiM GbiJi'B nepBbiM'B;
— mast, cxeHbra.
topic, npeAMex-B, xeMa.
torch, "faKeji-B.
tore, CM. tear.
torment, Myna, Myienle.
torn, CM. tear,
torrent, hoxok'b.
torrid, 3HoSHufi, sap-
KiS; the — zone, atap-
Kifi noacB.
tortoise, lepenaxa.
torture, nwTKa, Myna,
Myieaie-, to—, nuxaxb.
Tory, TopH, npHBepae-
HeitTjKopojieBCKoS nap-
— 436
Tia; — ism, cacTeiua
TopieBt.
toss, Kn/^aTB, 6pocaTb,
CpocaxbCH, Ka^aTbCJi,
KOJieSaxtCH.
total, Becb, i^^jihS, noji-
Hbi8; — ly, BOBce, co-
BcpmeHHO.
totter, niaTaTbca.
touch, TpoHyxb, pacTpo-
raTb, /i;oTpornBaTbCH,
Kacaxbca; to — glasses,
HOKaxbCH piOMKaMn; —
ing, xporaxeJibHtifi;
— stone , npoSHpHwa
KaweHb.
tough, atecxKift, Kpyxou.
tour, ^o'£3;^Ka, nyxe-
raecxBie.
tow, naKJiH;to — , 6yKC0-
poBaxb.
toward, — s, Kt, npo-
xnB-b; — ness, nepeHM-
yneocxb.
towel, nojioxennej oaken
— , 3y5p!Ha.
tower. 6amHfl, itpinocxb,
TiopbMa, r^Hxa/ieJib.; to
— , B03H0CHXbca; — ing,
BOSRWllieHHblft, BblCO-
town, ropos'b; ropo/i,CKiM;
— sman, ropOHtaHHH'b-
toy, HrpyuiKa ; — s for
children , ftlixcKiH
HrpyuiKH.
trace, cji^a^; to — , cjit-
AHXb, ^;^XH no cJi'fe/i.aM'b,
, HaiepxbiBaxb.
track, cji'ba'B, cxesa, nyxb;
to — , CJI'fe/^HXb 3a, OT-
Kpbixb qbH CJI'b;^bI, HaM-
XH cji16a1'5 naStnaxb
Ha C^tft-b.
tract, cxpana, nojoca.
trade, xopr-b, xoproBJia,
npoMHceJi'b, peMCCJio;
to — , xoprOBaxb, npo-
MbiiHJiflxbj — sman, Jia-
BOHHHK'b.
trading. xoproBbiM; a —
vessel, ityneiecKoe cy^
HO.
tradition, npe/^anie; — al,
Ha npe/iaHia ocHOBan-
HblS.
traffic, xoprb, xoproBJia,
cooSmenie.
tragical, xpamiecKiS.
train, pn^'b, CBHxa, npii-
BOff-b (noposy); to — ,
yHHXb , BOcnnxHBaxb,
npiyqaxb , ^peccnpo-
Baxb; — band, ropo;];-
CKaa MH.I^^ia.
trait, Hepxa.
traitor, nsMtaHHitTb.
trample down, xonxaxb,
nonnpaxb.
trampling, xonxanie, to-
nox-b.
tranquil, cnoKofiHbiM; —
lity, cnoKoficxBie.
transact , npoHSBOAHxb
yqiiHaxb, oxnpaBJiaxb
HcnpaBJiaxb ; — ion
oxnpaBviCHie (fl'jfeji'b)
R'fejio; — ions, sanHCKH
xpyRw.
transfer, nepeHocnxb, ne
peBOffHxb, nepejtaBaxb
transfix , npoKajibiBaxb
npoHsaxb.
transient , npexosamifl
the ftliill was but —
HO ymacT. axoxt npo
SOJiiKajica He p,OJiro.
translate, nepcBOAnxb.
translation, nepeBOAi>-
transmission, nepecw;i-
Ka, nepeflaqa.
transmit, nepe;i;aBaxb,ne-
pecbiJiaxb.
transplant, nepecaan-
Baxb, nepecejiaxb.
transport, BocxopriD; to
— nepcBOSvixb, yBJie-
Kaxb.
trapper, SoSpojoBt, 60-
CpOBHllK^.
travel, nyxemecxBie, no-
'fe3;i;Ka; to — , nyxeme-
cxBOBaxb, 'fesAHXb; to
— up, npoMXH, npo*-
xaxb; the earth — s
round the sun, senjiH
oSpamaexca okojio
cojiFlua; — ler, nyxe-
uiccxBeHHnK'b , nacca-
/KHp'b ; — ling, nyxe-
niecxBOBaHie, "fes/^a.
traverse, nepexo;i;Hxb, ne-
pectKaxb, ^poxo;^IITb.
treacherous, HSMtHKHne-
CKifi, BtpOJIOMHblS. •
tread, m&ny, TonoT"Bj to
— cxynaxb} to — on,
Hacxynaxb Ha.
treason, HSMtaa; high—,
FocyftapcxBeHHaa h3-
Mtna.
treasure , coKpoBnme ,
KJiaAt ; Lord — r, ro-
cyftapcxBeHHwfi KasHa-
qeS.
treasury, KasnaieficxBo.
treat, yron^eaie-, nnpme-
cxBo; an acceptable — ,
npiaxHbiM rocxHHei^'b ;
to — , o6xoAHTbca,o6pa-
maxbca, nocxynaxb cb
icbM-b, xpaKX0Baxb,pa3-
cyatflaxb ; — ment, 0-
fipamcHie; — y, xpaK-
xaxt, fforoBopTb.
tree, AepeBo.
tremble, Apoataxbj trem-
bling all over, Becb
/^poHtamiS.
tremendous, ysacHtifi.
trench, OKont, xpaamea.
trencher, cxoji'i, ofitAen-
HHft CXCJITj.
tress, Koca, joKOH-b.
— 437 —
trial, HcnuxaHie, nonwr-
Ka, ncKymenie, cyiKAe-
Hie, ;^o^pocl.J cy/;e5Hoe
cJ^'fe;^cTBie; to bring to
a— , AOBOAHTb flo cyRa,
cy/i;iiTb ; to take one's
— cy/^IlTbc;I.
triangle, TpeyrojibHHKT..
tribCj iiJieua.
tribunal, cyflHJHme, cy^rb.
tributary, noooiHan p-ti-
ita, npHTOKT,.
tribute, AaHb, uoAaxb; to
pay any one the Jast
— , OT^aTb KOMy no-
cat^HiH AOJinj.
trice, MHrtj in a — , mh-
rOM'B.
trick , myTKa, mxyKa,
npoitasa, niajiocTb.
trifle, iiiyTUTb.
trifling, nycTua saHflTiH;
HeSHaqHTCJIbHblfi, MaJIO-
BasKHbiM^ Hesa/KHbiS.
trim, Hapaft-B; to — , hh-
CTHTb, yKpamaTb; to —
a boat, ypaBHOB-hciiTb
jiOAKy.
triumph, topvkcctbo; to
— TopsKecTBOBaxb, npe-
OAOJltBaTb
noCfiffi-
ftaxb ; — al, xpiyM-
oaJibHbiii; — antly, Top-
ffiecTBeiiHO.
trod, CM. tread,
troop, TOJina; — s, boh-
CKO, BoScita.
tropic, noBopoTHbifi Kpyrt.
TpoiiHKT>; — al, Tpo-
naiecKifl.
trot, pbicb; to — , 6*-
ataxb pbicbK), CtffiaTb.
troth, Btpa, BtpHOCTb.
trouble, xjionoxM, 6e3-
noKoficxBO, xpyATi, sa-
6oxa, cmymeHie, ne-
Majib, ropecxb; to — ,
MyxHXb , 6e3noKOHXb,
cMymaxbj osaSo^iMBcixb;
a— d sea, BSBOJiHOBaH-
Hoe Mope; I will —
you for, a nonpomy y
BacT.; — some,xflrocx-
Hbiit, fiesnoKoSubifi, AO-
KynaHBtiS.
trout, necxpytuKa, "to-
pejb.
trudge, xacKaxbCH, MHoro
xpyAHXbca, MyiHTbca.
true, BtpHblS, HCXHHHblii,
upaBAHBbiiij it is — ,
npaB^a) — gotten, 6jia-
ronpioOpixeHHHS ) —
hearted, HHCxocepRei-
Hbiii, npajuoftyinHbin.
truly, BtpHO, HCXHHHO;
— hearted, npaiuOAym-
flbifi.
trumpet, xpy6a.
trundle, Kaxaxbca.
trunk, neHb, cxBOJit, cyH-
ayK'B, amHK'b.
trust, soBtpie; to — , no-
Jiaraxbca Ha ixo, yno-
Baxb, HasiiHXbCfl; to —
one's self to, ^OBtpaxb-
ca Heny; — worthy,
HaAeatHbiS, SjiaroHaAeat-
Hb]fi ; — y, BtpHbifi,
HaAesHbiH.
truth, npaBAa, iicxHHa;
the — is, npaBAy CKa-
saxb j in — , no hc-
XIIHt.
try, npo6oBaxb, Hcnbixw-
Baxb, cyAHTb, cxapaxb-
ca, nbixaxbca; to —
experiments , js.'^saTh
onbixbi; let thou and
I the battle — jpiuiHii^
AtJio eAHHoSopcxBOM-b.
tub, KaAKa.
tube, xpy6a.
tubular, xpy6HaxbiM.
tuck up, noASapaxb, noA-
BaSblBaXbt
tufted , E-b nyHKaxt ,
KJIOIKOBaXblft.
tug, CHJiHXbca, xpyAHXb-
ch; to — out, Bbixa-
CKHBaXb,
tumble, noBajTHsaxbCH,
naAaxb.
tumult, myM'b.cyMaxoxa.
tuneful, ejiardsByiHuK,
CXpofiHWfi.
tunnel, xyiiHejib,xoHHejib,
noASCMiibiM xoA^b.
turban, xiopSant.
turbot, najxycb, xop-
SexTb , MopcKaa Kaii-
6ajia.
turbulent, myimbifi, 6yfl-
HbiH, 6e3qHHHbifi, Ses-
nOKOHHblS.
turf, AepHij, xoptTj.
Turkey, Typ^ia.
Turkish, xypen;KiS.
turmoil, SesnoKoaxb, My-
HHXb.
turn, onepeAB, ycjryra;
to — , Bepxtxb, Bep-
xtibCfl, noBopaiHBaxb,
npeB^pamaxb, nanpas-
jaxb, A*-i^Tbca; to —
about, noBopaHHBaxb ;
to — any one aside, co-
BpaiD;axb, oxEjioHaxt
Koro; to — away, ox-
BopaiHEaxb, oxcbijiaxb,
yBOJibHaxb, npornaxb;
to — back, oxraSaxb,
oxBopaiHBaxb ; to —
from, oxBopaqHBaxbca;
to — in, bxoahtb; to
— on, o6pan^axbca na;
to — out, BbiroHaTb,
BwnycKaxb, BHXOAiixb,
noKasHBaxbCH, KBJiaxb-
ca ; ' to — out of the
high road, CBOpaqn-
Baxb ci> 6oJbnio2 Aopo-
xH ; to — over, nepe-
BopaMHBaxb;to — round.
— 438
BpamaTtjOfiopaHHBaTb,
oSopaiHBaTbCfl; to —
to, o6pamaTbCfl K'tjto
— upon, OTH0CHTBC3
Kt, KacaTBCH lero, saBH-
CtTB OTb.
tarnament. TypHHpi>.
turnip, p*na,
turnkey, TiepeMmHKt.
turnpike, noniaanHHaa 3a-
cxaBa ; — act, laMO-
ffieHHoe nocTaHOBJieHie;
— man , c6opinHKt
mocceHHofi nouijEHHw;
— road, mocce, Hacbi-
naHHaa fl;opora.
tut, T*y!
tutor, HacxaBHHK'b, ry-
BepHept.
twain, ABoe, rbb.
twang, THycjiHBOe npoH3-
Hoinenie.
't was, CM. it was.
twelve, SBtHaffi^aTb.
twentieth, ABa;i;ii;aTbiH.
twenty, ABa^i^aTb} the —
first, ]i,Baj[na,Tb nepBuM,
twere, cm. it were.
twice, flBaatSM.
twig, BtTKa, Jiosa.
twine, oSBHBaTb, Bep-
twinkle, cBepnaxb, 6jih-
CTaTb.
twirl, BepTtTbca, Kpy-
THTbCa.
twist, CyiHTb, KpyTHTb,
njtecTb, oSBHBaTb; to
— any one's neck, CBep-
Hyxb KOMy nieio.
twixt, CM. betwixt,
two, flBa, ABoe; in — , Ha
ABt qacTH, nonojiaMi.;
in a moment or — ,
qpe31> HtCKOJIbKO MH-
HyTii; — bedded, hm*-
lomifi RB* nocTejM; —
fold, aboBhoM, RBOHKiS;
— hundred, ab*cth.
tyranny, THpancTBo, My-
HHTe.lbCTBO.
tyrant, THpam,, Myqn-
Te.ib,
tyro, HOBHieKT,.
" u.
ultimate, nocji'fe;i;Hifi, Kpai-
umpire, nocpeAHHK-bjTpe
TeficKifi cy;;bH.
unable, He b-b cocToamH.
unacquainted, nesHaKo-
Mbifi, HecBtftymifl.
unanimous , effBHosym-
Hbifi, e3,HHorjiacHbii1; —
ly, eflHHOffyoiHO.
unavailing, 6e3noj[e3HBia.
unaware, neBHHMaTejrb-
HbiH, HesHaiomiM.
unblown, HeHrpaHHwfi.
unborn, Hepoffi/i;eHHbiM.
unbounded, HeorpaKHqen-
Hbifi, 6e3npeR'EjibHbiM,
HeHaCMTHWH.
uncertain, HeB'fepHbiM,He-
HSB^feCTHbiii , HeHasejK-
HWfi) — ty, HeH3B'6CT-
HocTb, HesoyMtHie.
unchanged, HeH3M'feHHB-
miSca, HeH3M'feHHbiS.
uncharitableness, neMH-
jiocepAie , SesffiajiocT-
HOCTb.
unchewed,Hepa3ffieBaHHHfi,
uncivilized , nenpocB*-
meHHbifl, rpySbiH.
uncle, Aa^a.
uncomfortable, HenoEoS-
HblM, HeyiOTHHfi.
uncommon, neoSbiKHo-
BeHHbiS; very — with,
BecbMa p*AK0 BCTpt-
HaeMOMt btj.
unconditional, CesycjoB-
unconquerable, Heno6']&-
AHMhS.
unconsciously , Sesox-
HeTHO.
uncouthness, nejioBEocxb,
neyKJiioatecxb.
uncover, oSHaataxb, pac-
KpbiBaxbj — ed^ CT, ne-
nOKpblXOK) HJIH o6Ha-
ateHHOH) rojtOBoM.
uncrushed, Hepas/taBJieH-
HblS.
uncultivated, Heo6pa6o-
XaHHBlfi.
undannted, Heycxpainn-
MBlS.
undecided, HeptiueHHbiS.
under, noji^-b, npHj— done,
HeAoacapeHbifi; — neath,
noRTb HHSOM-b; — stand-
ing, pasyMtnie, nona-
xie, pasyMi,; — taking-,
^pe;^^piaxiej to — go,
npexepntBaxb j to —
take, npeflnpHHHMaxB,
6paxB Ha ce6a, pyqaxb-
ca; to — mine, no^Ka-
HbiBaxb , iiOflpbiBaxb ;
to — stand, noHHMaxb,
yMtxb , sHaxb, Shtb
CBtflymBMl. B-bj CJIH-
uiaxB.
understood, cm. under-
stand.
underwent, cm. undergo.
undeviating, HensMtHHBiS.
undisturbed, neBcxpcBo-
HteHHBlS.
undo, pa3Ba3BiBaxB.
undone^ irory6jieHHBifi.
undoubted, HecoMHtn-
HBiS } — ly , HecoM-
HtHHO.
undrawn, HeBwxameH-
hhS.
undress, pasjtBaxbca.
undulatory, BOJiHoo6pa8-
HI>l3.
- 439 —
uneasy , GesnoKoMnwft ,
unexampled, 6e3npHM*p-
Huti.
unexpected, HeoJKH;^aH-
HbiS ; — ly, HeojKHRaH-
HO, HeqaaHHO.
unexperienced, HeonwT-
Hblfl.
unfavourable , He6jiaro-
npiHTHUu.
unfavourably , Hefijiaro-
npiaTHO.
unfit, HenpHroftHbifi, He-
npHjrniHfciS, necnocoS-
HblS.
unfold, pasBepTUBaxb.
unfortunate, necqacTHbifi}
— ly, Kt HecnacTiio,
Ha Stfly.
unfounded^ HeocHOBaxejib-
Hbiii,
ungrateful , eenpHSHa,-
TejibHbifi, He6J[a^o;^ap-
HblS.
unguardedly , HeocTo-
poatHO.
unhappy, HecnacTHbiS.
unhelped, fiesnoMomsbifi.
uniform, MyH/^np-b; OAHO-
06pa3HbIH.
unimportant , MaAOBan-
HhS, HCBaJKHblM.
uninclosed, ne OKpyateH-
Hbifi, He oOHeceHHbiu
(3a6opoMt), He oropo-
ffieHHbifi.
uninhabited, neoSHTae-
Mbiii.
uninjured, HenoBpeatneH-
HUS.
uninterrupted, nenpep-
BaHHbiS, HcnpiocxaHaB-
jiHBaeMHfijHenoM'finiae-
HblS.
union, coenHHenie, cone-
xaHie, coiostj.
unite, coBRHHflxb, coiexa-
Baxb, coeftHHflxbCH;— d,
coe;^HHeHHbI^r, — d Sta-
tes, Coe/^HHCHHoe Ulxa-
Xbl.
universal, BceoSiMiH, no-
BceMicTHbifi; — ly, no-
BCGMtCXHO.
universe, BcejieHHan.
university, yKHBepcHText.
unjust, HecnpaBeAJTHBbifi.
unknowing, nesHaiomiii,
HeBt^ymiH.
unknown, HesnaKOMbiii,
HeHSBicxHwil, HeB'b;to-
Mbifi; — to him, Sesi.
ero B'fi;i;oMa.
unlawful, HeaaKOHKbiS; -
ly, HesaKOHHO.
unleavened, SesKBacHwfi.
unless, ecjiH He, pasBt,
HHaye KaKt.
unlettered, HeKHHJKHbiH,
HeyneHbiu,
unlifted, He^o/^HflxbIa.
unlike, Henoxo/Kifi.
unlimited, HeorpaHnneH-
Hblfi.
the unloading, BwrpyaKa.
unlucky, HecqacxjiHBwfi,
HecqacTHbiH.
unmanageable, Heynpa-
bhmhM; the ship was
— , KopafijieM'b He bos-
MOfflHO Shjio ynpaB-
JJHXb.
unmeasured, neorpaHH-
HeHHblfi, He03M*pHMbIH
SesMlbpHbiii.
unmitigated, HecMarien-
HbiS, HeyjiojinMbiH.
unmixed, necM'fiuiaHHbiR.
unmolested, HCBpeRHMbifi.
unmoved , HexponyxHS,
Seat yMHjieHia.
unnaturally , nenaxy-
pajbHO.
unnavigable, HecyRoxoff-
HblM.
unnecessary, HeHy/KHbiS.
unnoticed, neaaMtqeH:
HblM.
unnumbered, HecMtxawM.
unparalleled, aecpaBHeH-
Hbiii, 6e3no;i;o6Hbifi.
unpardonable, Henpocxn-
xejbHbiH.
unpitied, ney^tocxoeaHbifi
co6oji'63HOBaHia.
unpleasing, HenpiaxHbiM.
unplundered , Heorpa6-
jieHHbiS.
unpopular, Hcnonyjiap-
Hblfi, HeJII06HMbl8.
unpremeditated, He npn-
roxoBacb, 6e3i> npnro-
xoBJieHia.
unprincipled, 6631. npa-
BBJIt.
unpromising, najio oSt-
mawmifl.
unreasonable, Sespascya-
Hbl3.
unrefined, neoSjiaropo-
HieHHblM.
unrestrained , HeyAep-
HCaHHblS.
unrivalled, 6e3no/i;o6Hbia.
unshaken , HenoKOJieSH-
MHU.
unskilfulness , HejioB-
Kocxb, HeyMtHbe.
Unsmote, nenopaiKeHHbifi.
unsubdued, nenoKopeHHuS.
unsuccessful, Gesycnim-
HbiS, HeyaaiHMfi.
unsuitable, Hecorjacewfi,
HBCOOXB'feTCXBeHHblfi ,
Hecoo6pa3Hbifi.
unsupported, nenoflAep-
ffiaHHbifi.
unsuspected, Henoffosp*-
BaeMbifi.
untameable , HeyKpoxa-
MblS.
until, CM. till,
unto, CM. to.
440 —
untouched, HeTpoHyTbifl;
one subject still re-
mains — , RO OflHoro
npe^iMeTa mh en^e He
KOCHyJHCb.
untrue, jioatHHH.
untwist , pascyHHBaxb ,
pacnjiexaTb.
unusual, Heo6biKHOBeH-
HBiS; — ]y, HeoSbiKHO-
BCHHO.
unused, HenpHBHKmiH.
unwarlikCj HesoHHCTBeH-
hhS.
unwearying, HeyToam-
Mbiii.
unwelcome, HenpisTHbift.
unwell, HeBaopoBwii.
unwholesome, nesftopo-
Bblfi.
unwilling, neoxoTHbiS.
unwisely, neOjiaropasyM-
HO.
unworthy, ne/tocTOMHbiu.
up, BBepxT), Ha Bepx-b;
— and down, xyja h
ciofta; — to, flo; lie is
— , OHTb BCTaJI-b ; to
get — , BCTaBaTbj the
national spirit was — ,
;^yx■b Hapo^a Shjitj
npoOyHtfteHTj) tlie ship
wonld be well —with
the land, cy/i,H0 no-
;^oftReT'b noOjHffie ktj
Bepery.
upheld, CM. uphold.
uphold, noAAepJKHBaTb.
upon. Ha, HpM, no, 0,
oStj, Bt; —a journey,
B7i floport; — which,
nocJili 'lero; the Eng-
lish were quick — it,
AnrjinqaHe Ghjih tot-
HacTb roTOBbi, Torqacb
noAOcn^JiH.
Upper, BCpxHiS, BbicrtiiS.
upright, OTB'feCHblftjnpflMO
uproar, BOJiHenie, 5yme-
Banie, xpeBora.
upset, onpoKH/i,biBaxb.
upward, upwards, BBcpx-b,
urbanity, BtJKjiHBocxb,
yiXHBOCXb.
urge, noSy/Kffaxb, noHy-
Kaxb , HacxoflxcjibHO
npocHTb; to — an ob-
jection, npe;i;cxaBJiaxb
Bospaatenie; to — on,
noTOHaxb , nonyKaxb;
ntly, HacxoHXGJihHO.
US, Hacb HaMt; with — ,
Ch RaMH.
usage, o6bi4an, oSbiKHO-
BCHie, o5pa;^Tj.
use, yaoxpeSjieHie, nojib-
3a, nojibsoBaHie ^tMi.,
nojibsoBanie /i;oxoffaMH
Cb Hero; no — talking
to — , KaKaa no-ibsa,
MTO XOJIIty, KIj MBMy
pasroBapHBaxb ctj? of
— , npHro;i;Hbiu noJies-
Hbift; oi^ no — , Sesno-
jtesHbiii) to make — of,
ynoxpeSjiaxb , nojibso-
Baxbca;to— , ynoxpeS-
jiaxb, Hwfexb oSmkho-
Benie, ^tJiaxb hxo o6biK-
HOBeHHO, o6xoAHXbca
CT. KtMij; to — the
sword, BJiaft'fixb mna-
roio; they — d to be
exposed, ohh ofiwitHO-
BeHHO EblCXaBJiaJIHCb;
they — d to meet, ohh
co5Hpajincb; — d, npii-
BWHHbift; he is — d,
OHT. npnBbiK-b; — fal,
no.He3HbiK; —less, 6e3-
nojiesHbiu.
usual, ynoxpe6nxejibHbii1,
oSblKHOBeHHWS, oSwi-
hh8; itis — here, SfllJCb
npHHHxa; — ly, o5wk-
HOBCHHO.
usurper, caMOSBaHeu;^.
utility, noJiesHOCxb.
utmost, Kpafinifi, BejiH-
Maiimifi; to the — , ^o
KpafinocxH.
utter, KpaMniS, coBep-
meHHWH, nojioffiHxejib-
hhm; to — , npoH3HO-
CHXb, roBopHXb; to —
prayers^ qnxaxb mo-
JTHXBbi; — ance, npo-
HSHOuienie asbiK'b; — ly,
Rpafine , coBepmeHHO.
V.
vacant, ynpa3/i,HeHHbiH.
vagabond, 6poRara.
vagrant, 6pOAara, CKH-
xaenrb.
vail, noKpHBajo, Byajib.
vain, xmexHbiS, cyex-
Hbifi, ropAwit, xmecjiaB-
Hbiii; in — , ~ ly,
xmexHO, HanpacHO.
vale, ffojiTj, ROJiHHa.
valet, cjiyra, KaMep^H-
Hepx..
valiant, ffoOjiecxHbia, xpa6-
pwti; — ly, Ao6jiecxHO,
xpaSpo.
valley, p^ojinna.
valour, /i,o5i[ecxb, xpa6-
pocxb.
valuable, i^tHHwH, ^pa-
rOA'feHBblft.
value, Mfina, n^HHOCXb,
BajKHocxb) to — , i;*-
HHXb.
van, vanguard, aBan-
rapAXj, uepe^OBoe Boft-
CKO.
Van Diemen's Land,
BaHXT4nMeH0Ba Sesuts.
vanilla, Baunjib.
vanish, nsiesaxb.
— 441
vanity, c^exa, Tmexa.
vanquish, no6*!KAaTh.
vapour, napt.
varied, MHoropasjiHqHWM.
variety, pasnooGpasie,
pasjinqie, ^opo;^a; a —
of talk, pasHbie pasro-
Bopu,
various, pasHtnl, pasHO-
o6pa3HMi1, pasjiii yHbiH,
MHOropasJiniHwii; — ly,
pa3JiH4H0, pasHO, pas-
H005pa3H0.
varlet, qejioB'£K'b,tijiyT'i..
vary,pa3HOo6p a3HTb, pasH-
CTBOBaXb, H3Ml5IIflTbCa,
iiepeMfiHaTbCfl.
vassal, saccajiij, ^OJI/^OB-
HHKTj, Jie.HHHK'b.
vast, o5ui0pHbn1, orpoM-
HbiJi; — ly, qpesMipHO:
— ness, oSniHpHOCTb,
6e3M'6pHOCTb.
vault, CBORi), noflBaji'b; —
ed, CO cboaomtj; the—
ed sky , neSecHbiu
CBOAT..
veal, TejiaTHHa.
vegetable market, oBom-
Hbiii H.tM sejieHHoil pM-
HOK'b; — s, sejieHb.
vegetation, upoHspacTe-
Hie, nposaSaHJe.
vehement, nbundM, ro-
pa<iiu,.3ana<TbqnBbiii; —
ly, 'CHJibHO, ropaio,
HtapKO.
vehicle, noBosKa.
velocity, Swcxpoxa, cko-
pOCTb.
velvet, Sapxax-b} Qapxax-
Hbiii.
venerable, npqeTHwS.
veneration, nonnxaHie,
6;iaroroB'feHie, hbcxbo-
Banie.
Venetian, BeHei;iaHCKift.
vengeance, Mi^cHie, wecxb
venison, awiiiHu; ^ dinnur,
oCtiflT, (cocxoamifi) iistj
AH^iMHw; — pasty, nam-
XCTI. CI. ;^H'^MH011.
vent, iicnycKaxb, iisjih-
Baxb.
venture, ocM'SjiHBaTbca,
oxBaffiHBaxbCH , nyc-
Eaxbca; to — out, ocm'J&-
JIHBaXbCa BbI/l,XH.
verandah, BepaH^a (.ler-
itna rajiepea BOKpyrij
ROMa).
verb, rjiaroJiT.; — al, cjo-
BecHbiil; — al altera-
tion, n3MtjHeHie cjiOB'B.
verdant, seacHtioiniM, se-
jieHbiu.
verdict, npHroBopij hjiii
oxBtxt npHcaatHbixTj.
verdure, sejienb.
verify, cBtpaxb.
verse, cxux-b, cxhxh.
versed/ cBi&Aymift-
versification, cxnxocjio-
ffieHie, BepcH4>HKaii,ia.
verst, Bepcxa.
very, caMbiH, Hacxoamiii;
oneHb, Becbivra; — much,
ropasffo.
vessel, coey3,-b, cocyAHna,
cyAHO.
vest, KaM30a'b, TKHJieXTi,
veteran, sacjry/KeHHbiu,
onbixiibift.
vexation, AOcaAa, orop-
Henie.
viand, Kymanbe.
vibrate, uaxaxbca, pas-
MaxHBaxbca.
vicar, BUKapin, ceabCKifl
CBHmeHHHKT..
vice, nopoKTi.
vice chancellor, BHi^e-
KaHu.Jiep'b, — roy, BH^e-
KopoJib, BH^epoS.
vicinity, cocsacxbo.
vicissitude, nepeMl&Ha.
victim, atepxBa.
victor, noSliAiixeJib, no-
6'bA0H0ce^^J ; — ions,
noS'fiAOHOCHbiS;— ious-
]y, no5l3AOHOCHo; — y,
uofi-feAa.
victual, CHaSiKaxb, cttcx-
HbiMn npiinacajiH.
vie, conepHHqaxb, copeB-
HOBaXb.
view, BiiAt, BSTJiaATj, 060-
sptnie, ntJib, Hau'ft-
penie; to — , BHAfixb,
cMOxp'fexb, pascjiaxpH-
Baxb.
vigilance, OAwxejibHocxb.
vigorous, cHjibHbiS, Mom-
Hbiil
vigour, aHepria, cnj[a,
KplinOCXb, SAOpOBLB.
vile, HHSidfi, noAJibiH.
villa, saropoAHbiS aomt.,
village, AepeBHa; — r,
AepepeHCKiii Htaxejtb,
nocejiaHiiH'b.
villain, ^oA.'Ie^'B , sjio-
Albfi, MOmCHHHKTb; — y,
3JI0A'£ftcXB0.
villany, MOiiienHHiecxBo.
vindictive, Mcxnxejbubift;
— ness,iiicxHxejibHocxb.
vinegar, yitcycb.
violate, napyuiaxb; to —
any one's purse, ono-
paa?HiiBaxb y Koro ko-
uiejiCKt.
violation, Hapymeuie.
violence, iiacHj[ie, cnjia,
CBHptnocxb, crpeiUH-
TejbHOCXb.
violent, cnjibBbiS , na-
CHJIbHHlI, HaCHJlbCXBen-
hmS; — ly, cnjibHO,
cxpeunxejibHO, nacHJib-
CXBCHHO.
Virgil, BaprHJiifi.
56
- 442
Virginia, BiipraHia; — n,
BeprHHiei^T).
virtue, soSpoAtxejib, npe
BOCxo;i,Hoe KaiecTBo;
by — , btj CHJiy, no
viscount, bhkohttj.
visible, bi^ubjuM, oie-
BH/],Hblfi,
visit, BMSHT-b, noc'fimc-
Hie, HaBtmaHie; to be
on a — , rocTHTbj to—,
HaBJ&maTb, noctujiaTb.
visual, spuxejibHbiil; —
knowledge, Harjia/i,Hoe
pacnosaaBaHie.
vivacious, fflUBoii, bccc-
Jibiii.
vivid, iKHBoil, Hpldfi,
vocabulary, cjioBapb.
vocal, BOKaibHbiM, ro-
JtOCOBoM.
vocation, npH3BaHie,R0Jiffi'
HOCTb, 06a3aHH0CTb,
CKJioHHOCTb, pacnojio-
aseHie.
vociferate, Kpn-iaxb nao
BceM luoMn.
voice, rojioct.
volatile, jeTynia.
volume, oCteM-b, KHHra,
TOMT,,
voluntarily, AoSpoBOJib-
HO, OXOTHO,
voracious, npoHtopJiHBwii,
H!a;;ubiii,
voracity, upoffiopjiHsocTb
5Ka;^H0CTb.
vote, rojiocB, iiH'bHie; to
— , no/^aEaTb rojiocb,
n. MH^Hie, corjiacHTbCH
Raxb.
vouch, pyiaxbcfl,
vow, oStT-b.
vowel, rjiacHaa 6yKBa.
'. voyage, nyxeiuecxBie, bo-
siiR'h] — of discovery,
uyxemecTBie, (npeA-
npHHHMaeMoe) ;^J:a ox-
KpBixiii); — r, nyxe-
UieCXBeHHHKt.
vulgar, npocxoM HapoAij,
npocxoM jnoftij, MepHb;
npocxonapoAHbiH, npo-
CXOH, oSblKHOBCHHMfi,
: W,
wade, xo^HXb Bt GpoAT).
wag, MaxaHieCxBOCTOMTj);
to-
luaxaxb.
wage, BecxH (Bofiay).
wager, 3aKJia/i,i>; for a—,
Ha napti.
wages, ffiajOBanbe, njiaxa,
waggoner, nsBomuKt.
wail, Bonjb; are loud
in their — , rpoMKO bo-
niaioxt; to — , njiaKaxb,
cfexoBaxb.
waist, noacH0iJ,a, xajiia,
xaK/Ke Mtcxo Ha oi-
KpUXOMTj AGK'fi cyftHa
MejKfty uiKaimaMH n 6a-
KOMTi (ruKao'yx'B m po-
cxpbi); — coat, atujiexij.
wait, saca.na; to — ,
/K^axb , BUffiHRaxb ,
cjiyJKUXb , npucjiyiKH-
Baxb; to — for, fto-
iKHflaxb, ftOJKHAaxbca;
to— on, to — upon,npH-
cjiyjKUBaxb , HaBtmaxb,
nocnt.ujuxb, 3a']33H;axb|
— er, npHCJiyiKHiiKi.,
nojiOBoi'i; — ingmaid,
— ing- woman, ropHH4-
naa; gentleman in —
ing, CM. gentleman.
wake, 6yAHXb, pasSyiK-
. Aaxfa, npocbinaxbca; to
— up,npo6y}KAaxbCH ; —
ful, 6oApufi, ORuxejib-
HblS.
Wales, BajiJiHCTj.
walk, xo/i,!), xo^bSa, xoat-
fteaie, nporyjiKa; to — ,
xoAHTb, xoffuxb ntm-
kojitj, ryjaxb, npory-
aiiBaxbca; to — about,
npoxa/KHBaxbcaj to —
out, BbixoAHXb; to —
over, nepexoAHXb; to
— up to, noflxoflnxb Kt.
wall, CTtHa.
wallet, cysiKa.
Walter, Baabxepx,,
wan, CM. win.
wand, npyxrb, jnesji'h.
wander, Sjiyat^axb, 6po-
AHTb, cKHxaxbca, cxpan-
cxBOBaxbj — er, cxpaa-
HiiKt, 6poffara; — ing,
cxpaHCiBOBaHie, cxpan-
cxByiomiS.
want, HeAOCTaxoifb, He-
HMtHiejSiAHOcxb, Hya;-
fta, HaftoBHOCxb) for —
of, sa oxcyxcxBisM'B,
no HeHMtHiio; in — of
repair, xpeOyiou^ifi hc-
npaB.ieHiaj who all ray
— s supply, Koxopbie
AOCXaBJlfllOXlj MHt Bce
HyffiHoe; to— jHe^ocxa-
Baxb, uM^xb Heftocxa-
T0K'I.,HU'lJXbHa/l,06H0CXb,
nyjKAaxbCfl b-b, xoxtxb,
jKejiaxb, — ed, HyavHbifl.
war, BoiiHa; — of con-
quest, BOnaa ji,s.a. sa-
BoeBaniii; in — ^Wh Boeu-
HoeBpeMflj to make — ,
Bccxu Boiiny, BoeBaxbj
— chariot, Ooeaaa ko-
JIecHn^a; — like, bohh-
cTBeHHhiii ; — rior,
Bonai..
warble, HiipuKaxb; ^yp-
naxb, ntxb cb xpejia-
MH, pacnfiBaxb.
ward, OTA-hJCHie, KOiiaa-
xa; to — , oxpaaaxb.
— /(/i-3
warm, renJiwH; — th,
Tcnjioxa.
warn, npeAOcreperaTh,
OTjiajiaTb; to — off, ox-
roHrtTb; — ing, npej-
ocTepeaseHie, npeayB*-
;^OJIJeHie;at a moment's,
— , TOTwacb nocji'li iipn-
KaaaniH.
warrant, nojHOMOHie, no-
Be.itHie.
was, 6biji'h\ CM. be.
wash, 60JOTO, iiojioh; to
, MblTb, OOMblBaXb;
to — off, CMbinaTb; the
sea — ed over him,
ero 3anjiecKHBa.iio boji-
HaMH.
waste, xpaxa; nycxofi,
nycxHHHbiS;to — ,HCxo-
maxb, HCxpaHHBaTb.
watch, Kapayjij, '^lacw,
Baxxa, KapMaHHbie 'la-
cbi; lieutenant on the
— , BaxxeHHMJi JieS-
TenaHXT.; officer of the
, BaXXCHHblS Haiajib-
HHKT); to — , 6A'feTb,
cxepeib , KapayjiHxb,
noftKapayjinBaxb, ^o;^•
H!H/i;axb, HaSjiiOflaxb sa;
to — for, noAKapayjiH-
Baxb} — ful, 6/i;HxeJb-
HbiS, noneHHxejibHbifl;
to be — fnl of, npairfe-
laxb qxo, Ha6;i[0Aaxb sa
qtMi)} — ing, fiAl&Hie,
SescoHHHi^a; — maker,
HacoBou Macxepij; —
man, nacoEoM.
water, BORa; boahhoh;
to — , nojiHBaxb, opo-
maxb; — cask, BOAHHaH
6oiKaj — man, jioaoh-
HHKt, nopeB03iHKTj; —
room, npocxpaHCXBO sa-
HHMaeMoe boaoio; — y,
BOflaHOfi.
wave, BOJiHa; to — , Jia-
xaxb, BOJiHOBaxbca.
wax, BOCK-b, BOCKOBOS;
to — , cxaHOBiixbca, A*-
■ Jiaxbca.
way, nyxb, Aopora, pas-
cxoHHie, cxopona, cno-
cofi-b, oSpas'b, JianepTj,
oSpamenie, npHBbiHKa;
— out^ BbixoA'b; — side,
cxopona, noporpi; by
the — side, noAJi* AO-
porii; by— of, bt. BnAt,
KaK-B; by the — , Aopo-
roio, Ha Aopor-b; in
no — , Hn 'lyxb ne;
roundabout — , o6xoatj,
Kpyr-bj that — , xyAa,
xaKHMX. o6pa303i'b; the
right — of the fur, no
iiiepcxH; which — , Ky-
Aa? to give— , noAAa-
Baxbca, ycxynaxb; to
make — , Aa^axb, ycxy-
naxb AOpory; to make
one's — npoSnpaxbca.
waylaid, cm. waylay,
waylay, iroACxeperaxb,
noAKapayjiHBaxb.
we, Mbij — are seven, Hact
ceirepo.
weak, cjraSbiM; to — en,
ocjia6j[axb , odescHJiH-
Baxb; — ness, cjia6ocxb,
XHJOCXb.
wealth, AoGpo, ^MyI^e■
mecxBO, 6oraxcxB05 —
y, 3aa!HxoHHHH, 6ora-
xbiS.
weapon, opystie.
wear, nocKa; to-, HO-
CHXb, Hcxomaxb, HC-
nopxHXb; to — away,
npoxenaxb, npoxoAHXb;
to — out, HcxoMJiaxb;
to — the air, hm^xb
BHA'b.
weariness, ycxajiocxb.
weary, yTOMjieHHbift, ycxa-
jibiM, cicyiiHbiS.
weather, noroAa, naB-h-
xpennaa cxopona, na-
BtxpenHbitl; to -,ofio-
ruaxb, ofi-b-feajKaxb; —
beaten, saropliBniitt.
weave, xicaxb, njrecxb;
to — together, cnJiexaxb;
— r, XKaq-b; — r of
cloth, CyKOHmHKT..
we'ave, cm. we have
web, nayxHHa.
wed, JKCHHTbCa Ha KOMTj,
BWHXH 3^ MyiK-B 3 a
Koro; — ded, bt, cynpy-
BsecxBt} — ding, csaAbSa.
Wednesday, cepeAa.
weed, njiaxbe, njteaejbi,
xpaBS; mourning — ,
xpaypHoe njiaxbe ,
xpayp'b.
week, HCA^Jraj—ly, eme-
HCA'feJitHHSjSa HeA'fe.mo.
weep, njaKaxb.
weigh, noAHniAiaxb.
weight, BtCt, BlfeCbl, XH-
Htecxb.
welcome, jracKOBwS npi-
eui-b, npiaxHbiS; to — ,to
make — , opnB'fexcxBO-
Baxb; heis — ,you are — ,
MHJOCXn OpOCHMT., A^ "
6po noffiajEOBaxb.
welfare, SjiarococxoaHie.
well. KOjroAesb, JibHjro;
SAopoBHu; xoporao, xo-
pouieHbito, KaKt CJll;-
AyexTj; ny hxo! to — ,
xe'ib, 6HXb KJiioqeM-b;
— a-day, ysw! — bred,
SjiaroBocnHxaHHBiS; —
done, AOBOJibHO Hta-
peHMfi; — you may be
in a hungry case, a
AyMaio, Bbi nporojio
AaJiHCb; it were as — ,
He ApyHO 6m 6biJio;
— 444
when he became so
— , Kor^a OHT. Ha ctojib-
KO nonpasHJCfl.
we'll, CM. We will.
Welsh, BajJiHCKifi; the
— , BajiJiHCi;ti; —man,
Bajumcen;!).
welter, BajaTbca, njia-
Baxb.
went, CM, go.
wept, CM. weep,
were, 5hjih; cm. be.
west, 3ana/;i>, 3ana/i;Hwfi,
ktj sanafly; — er]y, —
ern, 3a^a;^HbI^; — ward,
K-B sana^y.
West Indian, BecTii-MH-
;^e8cKiS; — minster,
BecTMHHCTepT,, BecT-
MHHCTepcKifr.
wet, MOKpbiM; to -to the
skin, npoMa'iHBarb ro
KOCTCfl HJIII Ha CKBOSb.
whale, KHTt; — boat,
BejibSoTt, yaKiKe mjiion-
Ka KHTOJiOEHaro cy/;Ha;
— bone, KHTOBbin yet;
— man, khtojiobt..
wharf, npHCTaHb.
what, to qxo, 4X0) Ka-
Koii, KOTopbiii; itaKt!
— ever, RaKofl 6h hh
CbiJi'b, Mxo 6bi hm;
nothing — ever, ptuiH-
xejibHO HHqero; — time,
BT} KaKue BpeMii? —
with not having, qa-
cxiio OTi> Toro HTO He
HM'feJI'b.
wheat, nuieHHi;a; flour
of — , nujeHiiMHaa Myna.
wheel, KOJieco; to—, Ka-
TBTb, BepxtTbCfl, o6pa-
maxbCHj 10 — out, BU-
KaxuBaxb; — ed, ko-
jecHbiS, Ha KOJiecaxt.
when, Korjiia; — ever,
Bcer;^a KO^;^a, BcaidS
pasi. Kor;^a; he had
scarcely... — , oh'b xojib-
Ko Hxo ycn'feji'b...KaK'b.
whence , from whence,
oxKyAa.
where, r/i,*, Ky/^a5 every
— , BesA*, noBCioAy,
DOBceMtcxHoj — as,
memnY t^mi. KaKt, no-
xoMy Hxo; — at, na
ixo; — ver, r/i;* 6bi hh,
Ky;^a Chhh; —fore, no-
ieMy,ii;jLH lero; — from,
OTKyAa; —in, bt. qeMi.;
— on, Ha HeMt, Ha
KoxopoMt; — soever,
Ky/(a 6bi hh; - to, K-b
'leMy, KT) KoxopoMy;
— upon, nocji* qero;
— with, q-feM-b.
whether, .ih; — ..or, jih..
which, Koxopbiii, qxo,
KaKofi; of — , KOToparo,
EOTopbix-b ; — way
Kysa.
Whig, EUTT}, npHEepate-
Hei^t oniiosHi^iH; the
— party, napxifi bh-
roBt; — gery, cucxe-
Ma BHrOBT).
while, BpeMa; a —-, H-fe-
CKOJIbKO BpeMeHH, H'fe-
KOTOpoe speMS) after,
a little — , nejjHoro no-
roAH.
while, whilst, MewAy
TifeMi) itaKij, xor^a KaKi,
noKa.
whip, KHyX-b, eHHt, XJIH-
cxhktj; to
CtHb
whirl, 6biCTpo o6pamaxb-
cajBepTtxbcajKpyaiHXb-
ca; — wind, BHxpb.
whisk, MqaxbCH, Jiexaxb.
whiskers, 6aKeH6ap;i;bi.
whisky, yucKw (poflt bor-
kh).
whisper, menox'b; in — s,
menoTOMT); to — , mea-
xaxb.
whist, BHcx-b (KapxoHHaa
Hip a).
whist, cxT), i^bm-bl
whistle, AyAKa, cbhctok^;
to — , CBHCXaXb,
whit.KpoiiieHKa, Majiocxb;
not a — , HH Majo.
white, SiJiiifi n;B'fex'b; 6t-
jibiu; — bottomed, ct>
C'tjibiMi. AHOM'b; a —
day, cHacTJiHBbiii ^CHb;
to — n, 6'fiji'fexb, 6*-
Jiiixbca.
whither, ityAa.
whiz, CBHCX'&Xb, IllHn'feXb.
who, Kxo, KoxopwH; —
ever, kxo 6bi hh, toxt>
KXO.
whole, whjioe, Bce; i;*-
jibiii, Becb; the — of the
Bible, BCio Gnfijiiio; the
— of the guns, Bcfe
opyflia; on the — , bo-
o6me; — some, ittjiefi-
Hblil, 3AopoBwft.
wholly, coBctM-B, coBep-
meHHO.
whom, Koro, Koxoparo;
by — , K-feM-b; with — ,
C'fa K'feM'b. ■
who' re, cm, who are.
wh'.iSe, qea, Koero.
whosoever, kxo 6u hh
SbiJit.
why, noqcMy, saqtM-b;
KaK-b ! B^Ab ! Hy ! Hy
qxoatTj ! nsBOJibxe bh-
Atxb!
wicked , HeqecxHBbiM, 6e3-
SoffiHbifi, 3JiOAiMcKi8; —
ness, 3;io6a, HeqecxH-
BOCXb.
wicker, hbobuM.
wide, mnpoKiii, o6mHp-
Hbjfi, npOCTOpHWS, QIH-
— 445
pHHOio J — open , Ha-
cxeiKbjWith his nostrils
all — , C'b OTBepCTBIMlI
H03f(pflMn; to — n, pac-
lunpaTb; — ly, flaaeito,
B;^aJm , snaHHTejibHO ,
o^ieHb.
widow, BAOBa.
wield, BJia/i.'feTb, ynpaB-
wife, mena, cynpyra.
wig, napiiK-b.
wight, lejiOBtK'b.
wild, nycTbiHfl; /i,HKiS,
CBHptnbiu, pacnyTHwtt,
SypuHii; — erness, ny-
CTbiHa ; — hanging
woods, noBBCiiiia a^-
peBbfi, T. e. /^epeBb^
Cb nOBI'ICJlblMH BtTBa-
Mii, Kant TO 6epe3bi,
HBbi njiaityqia, h t. r ;
— ly, piKO.
will, BOJIH, npOH3BOJn>,
/lyxoBHaa, 3aB*maHie;
10 — , XOTtTb, 3Ke.!iaTb,
HMtTb oSblKHGBeHie ;
KUKt BcnoM, rjiar. o-
BHanaeT'b (3y/i;yu^ee Bpe-
mh; — you fill up, ^o-
jieMTe noJKa.iyficTajwhen
circumstances would
permit, Kor^a nosBo-
jiajiH o6cTOflTejibCTBa;
— ing, oxoTHbiii; to
he- ing, corjiaiuaTbca,
6biTb roTOBy, xoTtTb;
— ingly, oxOTHO.
Will, William, Bujib-
reJibMi).
win, BbiarpHBaTb, npio-
SptTaTb , /!;ocTaBaTb ,
no6'feffl3;'iTb , OAepjKaxb
(noGtfly) ; to — the
race, nojiyHaxb narpa-
sy ; slow and steady —
s the race, « thuib
t^eEib ;^aJIbrae 6y-
;i;eiiJb »5 — "'"gi npn-
B.ieKaTejibHbiil.
wince, coflporaTbca.
wind, BtTepi) ; a good
prize was in the — ■,
AOCTaHCTca xopouiaa
Ro6bi>ia; which way is
the — , Cb KOTOpofl
CTOpOHbliltaiSTi BtxepTi?
wind, BepT*Ti>; to — up
a watch or clock,, sa-
BO/i,UTb qacbi ; — ing,
HSBBJEHa, usjyHHHa.
window, OKHO; OKOHHblR.
wine, BHHO.
wing, itpbiJio, ■tjranr'b}
on the — , Ha jiexy.
wink, Mur-b; to give a — ,
Muraxb.
winter, 3HMa; shmhIM; in
the — , 3PIM0I0 ; — 's
gone away, 3HMa npo-
mjia; a - 's day, 3hm-
Hiii RCHb.
wire, npoBOJioKa.
wisdom, My/i;pocTb, yjiT,,
OjtaropasyjiiG.
wise, MyApbifi, yMHwii;—
ly, 6jiaropa3yMHo; —
man, My^peiiiT).
wish, sKejianie; to — - ate
.laxb; I — myself far
from hence ^ a aeaaio
6biTb /^ajieKO OTCio;i;a;
to — for, atejiaxb qero;
it is to be — ed, wejia-
xejibHOj — fulj cffabHO
HtejiaiomiS.
wit, ocTpoyuiie, ocxpoxa
ywi), pasyMT), ocxpoy-
Meii,i>; G. had a pleas-
ant — , r. Bhjit) Sojib-
oioft ocxpflK-b; — ty, o-
cxpoyMHbifi.
witch, KO.iAyHba, BtafcJn^,.
with, CB, ox-B, y; saaKT,
xBop. naj^eaca ; — all
England firing up, Meat-
J[Y X'fiMTb KftKlj BCfl AhT-
jiia BOcnjiaweHajiacb.
withdraw, oximMaxb, y-
Aajiaxb.
wither, wither away, bh-
Hyxb, yBa^axb.
withhold, yrtepjKHBaxb.
within, BHyxpH, B'b, BO,
6o;it.e itaicb ^lepeaij
(lacb H np ); — a very
short distance, na oqenb
fijifiaKoe pascxoaHle;
to be — the reach, 6biTb
AOCxynHbiM'b; to — one
penny, fto oahofo neHHH.
without, BHl^, 3a, Ses-b;
ue; — waiting, ne 3,0-
ffiiiAaacb.
witness, Sbitb cBH3,*Te-
jieM-B.
woe, rope.
WOful, ropecxHbiM, 6'feA-
CXBeUHblH.
woke, CM. wake.
wolf, BOJIKT...
woman, vKeHU],iiHa; — kind,
JKCHCKiH UOJIT., ffieHIUH-
Hbl.
won, CM. win.
wonder, ahbo, 'lyAo, y^H-
B-ienie, HsywjieHie; no
— He yuaBHxejbHo; to
— yAHBJiaxbca, xoitxb
suaxb ; — ful, ny^ec- .
HwJi , yAUBHTejibHbiii,
. AHBHbiii; — fully, AHB-
HO, yAUBHXejIbHO.
wondrous, ahbhwH, y^H-
BUxejibHbiS, yyAecHbift.
wont, oQbiKHOBeHle ; to
be — , HM'Exb npHBbiHKy
Hjin oSbiKHOBeHiej — ed,
npUBblHHbiS, 06bIKH0-
BeHHblfi.
won't, wo'n't, cm. will
not.
woo, CBaxaxbCH 3a Koro,
IICKaXb.
- 446 -
W00d,AepeBO,ApoBa,ji*ci.}
jitCHoS; — ashes, flpe-
BCCHaa 30Jia,speBecHwS
nene^T.; — en, Rspe-
BHHHbiH; — land, jH-
CHCTOe MtCTO, JI^CB J
she had a rustic —
land air, ch BM/jy ona
6biJia o6HTaTejtH0B(a
jitcoBTj H iioaeS.
wool, luepcTb; — en, raep-
cTaHoK; — ly, mepcTii-
ctmS.
word, CJOBO; — for — ,
CJOBO BTi CJIOBO, OT'I>
cjiosa so cjiobb; — of
command, KOMaH;^Hoe
cjobo, KOMaH;^a; upon
my — , npaBo; to send
present — , TOTHaci.
/laBaTt 3HaTb; to — ,
Bbipaffiaxb cjiOEaMH,co-
HHHnXb.
wore, C3I. wear.
work, paSoxa, ;^'feJlo, co-
HHHeHie; of all — , Ha
Bct pyKu; to be at —
upon, SbiTb sanaxbiM-b
pa6oTOio Hant H'feM'b,
6bixb saHaxbiMT) itHt;
to — ,pa6oxaxb, ;;'fejiaxb,
^pOH3BO,'^HXb, npHHH-
HHXb, 6po3;Hxb; to —
miracles, TBopwxb ly-
^eca ; to — treason ,
saxtBaxb HSMtHy; he
— ed hard to masticate
it, OHT. BcaMecKH cxa-
pajca pa33KeBaxb ero;
— house, pa6oHiS /^0M'b;
— man, pa6oxHiiKi>} —
shop, jaacxepcKaa, pa-
6oHaH,
world, CBtTii, Mipt; a
man of the — , hbjio-
BtK-b CBtxcKiM; (that)
I have in the — , Ka-
KoS TOJibKO y laena
ecxb; he looked for all
the — like, ohtj noxo-
aHJit To^b btj Toqb Ha;
- — ly, CBlbxcKiH, Mip-
CKOS.
worm, nepBb.
worn, CM. wear,
worry, Mynnxb, xepsaxb.
worse, xyate, xy^iniH.
worser, cm. worse.
worship, noKjiOHenie, 60-
rocjiyjECHie; to — , no-
KJionaxbCH.
worst, caMbiH xy/l;ofi,xy/^-
miH; to have the — of
it, ocxaBaxbCii btj na-
KJiaA*, HOHCCDb y6bi-
XOKT),
worth, utHa, i;tHH0cxb,
AOcxoHHCxBOj cxoromifi,
AOCxoHHbiH 5 to be — ,
exoHXb; it is — while,
cxoHXT. xoro Hxo6bi;
six penny — , ua uiecxb
neHCOBT>;— less, HerOff-
Hblft,HeA0CT0SHblS,Hn3-
Kiii; — y, AOcroHHbiS.
would, CM. will ; Kor^a
would bcdom. rjaroJiT),
xo cm. ero rjasH, rjrar.
wound, pana; to — , pa-
HHXb.
woven, CM. weave,
wrap, saicyxHBaxb, no-
rpyiKaxb bo hxo.
wrath, PHfeBTb.
wreck, rcpyiuenie, o6jiom-
kh; to — , paspyuiaxb.
wrest, BbiBepxbiBaxb, bw-
puBaxb, HCTopraxb, ox-
HHMaXb.
wretch, HeciacxHwftjSJO-
A'feS; — ed, HecHacxHbiS,
3JionojyqHbii1, atajKift,
6'feAHbiH , HeroffHufi ,
CKBepHbifi ; — edness,
sjtonoJiyHie, 6'tjiia.
wrinkle, Mopmnxbca.
writ,Bbi30B-b, xpeSoBame.
write, nncaxb, Hanncaxb;
to- down,3anHCMBaxb;
— r, coHHHHxejib, nnca-
xejib, HHcaBmift Cnncb-
MO).
writhe, Kpyxaxbca, Kopr
HKXbca.
writing, nncaHie.
written, cm. write.
wrong, HecnpaBeAJiHBOCTb;
HeBtpHbiit, Henacxoa-
n;ii1; HecnpaBCAJiHBO.
wrote, CM. write,
wrought, CM. work.
Wiirtemberg, BiipxeM-
Cepr-b.
Y.
yard, ap^'b, anrJiificKift
apmnm. (1,286 apiu.),
ABopi..
ye, CM. you.
year, roAib, Jtxo.
yeast, apoikah.
yellow, Htejixofi i^stx-b:
ffiejxbift.
yeoman, oAHOABopei^'b; —
ry, OAHOABop^bI.
yes, Aa.
yesterday, Bqepa.
yet, eme, ao CHxt nopi.,
OAHaKO, Bce-xaKHj as
— ,eme. Bce eme; there
were as — no, xorAa
eu^e He 6bijio.
yield, npoasBOAUxb, npa-
HOCHXb, AEiBaTb, noAAa-
Baxbca, ycxynaxb; to
— up, ycxynaxb.
yoke, apeMTb, aro; to put
into the
sanparaxb
aon'b apcMT).
yon, xoxt.
yonder, xaM-b.
yore, AaBHo; of — jB-BCTa-
piiHy.
— 447 —
York, lopifL; — ist, lop-
kmcttj (npiieepiKeHei^'b
repuora lopKCKaro).
you, Bu, BM, Tu, Bacii^
liaixi>,Te6l3; how many
may— be, CKOJibKO Bacb
MoateT'b 6biTb?
you'd, CM. you would,
you'll, CM. you will,
young, MOJiofloM; — ster,
MOJOftOfi HCJIOB'hKTi, 10-
iioiiia.
your, Baiu'bjBaui'b, TBOu;
— s, BaLui>; — self, Bbi
caMM, ccSh.
you' re, cm. you are.
youth, lOHOiua, mbjiOAOCTb,
lOHOCTb, MOJIOfteffib; —
fill, lOHOiuecidft, MOJio-
floft, MOJioHtaBbifi; of a
very — ful appearance,
04eHb
BlI/^'b.
MOJiOHcaBi} Ha
z.
ous.
zeal, pesHocTb ;
peBHOCTHblfi.
zest, BKyCb.
zinc, u^hhktj, uiniayTepii.
zone, noflCTi, 30Ha.
zoological^ sojiorHiecKiS.
-^g'«<S>-
OIIEqATKH.
CxpaH. CTpoK. Hanei.
("ji'h;;. HaiicM.
CxpaH. CTpo
K. Hanei.
Cit/l. Hanen
7
4
ibe world
the world
176
15
briks
bricks
11
■26
soiider
soldier
181
8
exemple
example
—
30
solider
soldier
—
16
auswer
answer
23
2
enterning
entering
182
7
neight
night
26
30
bin
him
188
32 •
np
up
30
25
0 sleep
to sleep
189
9
cautions
cautious
45
31
at onco
at once
190
35
Garman
German
57
2
cango
can go
192
2
is should
it should
70
24
abjoining
adjoining
201
1-2
scriptual
scriptural
71
24
de Scotch-
the Scotch-
227
1
fundation
. foundation
man
man
—
•35
unles
unless
74
11
resolutely
resolutely
236
18
disceases
diseases
83
34
from of
from off
237
27
stimnlates
stimulates
85
12
Espuimaux
Esquimaux
244
26
posses
possess
89
11
bis novelty
its novelty
256
6
carriges
carriages
—
32
bappend
happened
257
90
Scotsf rom
Scots from
92
1
fell with
fell in with
262
32
in Perth
is Perth
93
.34
soom
soon
265
19-20
supeiority
superiority
96
31
relived
relieved
269
8
our praise
your praise
107
17
hast lost
had lost
273
10
honuor
honour
110
13
appeard
appeared
282
22
aples
apples
141
10
are said
were said
314
47
OHO axo
OHO, aio
171
32-33
when inten-
when his in-
317
15
JIM
Ml
tions
tentions
—
31
skake
shake
173
33
Bnt
But
319
12
yon
you
Cjl«BI%p!> .
CxpHH. CTpoK. Hanen.
Crhjl. Hanen.
CxpaH. CxpoK. Hanei.
CjitA- Harieq.
327 advance 14 enpeAii
BuepeRH
388 'llwili
11, CM. Will
332 attack ii ympeCi,
yn^epoi.
•,m our
1 HaM-L
Ham-b
342 Celtic t KO.ibTCKiri
KeJIbTCKJU'
400 pace
4 no KOMHaxb
no icounax'fe
350 creed 2 cnMBOJii.
cbmboju.
- parish
3 — ionernpn-— ioner, npn-
352 dedicate 1 HocBnmaxb
nocBamaxb.
xomaHica
xoacaHiiHTj,
357 draw 1 2 kt, TOMy
K1. KOMy
npiixo'/KaHKa
358 drop 3 — 4 nOBajiH-
noBajiHBaxbCfl
402 perfect
i copepmcH-
coBepmcHHbiu
Baxcb
Hblft
359 Ecclesiastl SitjesiacTi.
SKjiesiacTTj
405 pontiff
1 ncpBOcoa-
nepBOCBH-
362 ever 5-6 Sesnpe-
GesnpepbiBHO
meHHUK-b
mCHHIIKl)
pblBKO
406 press
9 ycxpcM-
ycxpeMJHTbca
— ,, 8 CKOJIbHO
CKO.IIbICO
jiacbca
— exchange 4 npoMtHHTb
J npoMtnaxb
412 real
1 nacTomifi
iiacxoau;ii1
11 a
, Ha
415 rid
1 to — get
to get —
366 tight 8—9 one's— wa^
• one's way
416 ring
1 nepcTCHTj
nepcxenb
376 high 20 BCJiHxosyui
- BejiHKO/iyiii-
410 seem
2 not — hear
not — to hear
Hbll"
iiHii
424 smack,
ffo.ita;
snack, Rojia;
378 illuminate
illuminate
428 stifle
1 sajiymaxb
saRyujaxb
379 impress 3 o6jia;i,l3-Ta
(jB.TiiAt..ir;i
— stout
2 i;oi5Kifi
;^l05Ki^i
382 intimate 1 HamtKaTb
iiajieTcaxb
429 strown
1 storw
s trow
■ — issue 5 (OT/^asaTb
ox;i;aBaxb
— submis-
npuKaa-b)
(npHKa3i>)
sive
2 nOKop HBbiii
noKopjuiBuii
THE LIBRARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF
NORTH CAROLINA
AT CHAPEL HILL
RARE BOOK COLLECTION
The Andre Savine Collection
PE1129
.S4
P38
1869
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